


Waiting on the Day

by High-Seas-Swan (FangLang)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Craft Beer, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Very light on the E rating, a lot of hiking and a little bit of pie, and doesn't really stick to them, patrick brewer makes plans, playing fast and loose with the misc prompt, sportfest, this was supposed to be about beer pong and then they caught feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangLang/pseuds/High-Seas-Swan
Summary: Creekside Brewing Company: Brewed by Brewers! (“Oh my god. Please don’t put that on Instagram.”)Canon divergence in which Patrick follows his cousins to Schitt’s Creek to help launch Creekside Brewing Co. But when he discovers that the neighbouring business is also set to open its doors soon, it will take him down a path he never expected.OrA story about changing your dreams, a beautiful boy, and a little bit of beer pong.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 210
Kudos: 364
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	1. Better Luck Next Time IPA

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> All the medals to doubleL27, RhetoricalQuestion & ships_to_sail for putting together this amazing fest.  
> Thank you to HV who can always figure out what I mean when I highlight a passage and write HELP!  
> Petrodobreva, I don't know what I would have done without you, you got me to the finish line, TY!  
> Unfolded73, you pointed me in the right direction and kept me going. You rock my socks.
> 
> Apologies to the brewmasters for all the things I got wrong. I am a pretty good beer pong partner though!
> 
> Cheers!

Patrick goes through the motions with ease, well practiced over the years. A slight increase to the temperature on tank one, a note to monitor tank two and a small tap to tank three, actions born out of habit. Three checks to the tanks, three strums of his guitar, and three taps of the bat to his cleats before staring down the pitcher. There’s a comfort in the routine, one that he often clings to, but the routine also amplifies the ache in his chest. A restlessness he isn’t quite sure how to solve.

So let’s just tuck that problem away for now, Patrick.

He forces himself to take a deep breath, lest his friends find him next to the boiling tank having a panic attack.

The smell of sawdust and cleaner hang in the air, as does the sour yeasty scent of fermentation. These scents often trigger memories, strong and vivid from the recesses of his mind but one in particular floats through today. His second semester of university and the disastrous first batch of beer he and his cousin Matt had brewed in their dorm room. 

They’d held their solo cups aloft, grins and misplaced confidence in full force before taking a sip. They were both too proud to be the first to admit how terrible it was, faces tight, grimaces barely concealed. 

“This tastes like shit,” Frank, their itinerant neighbour from across the hall had finally assessed, knocking the rest of his solo cup back in one go. Patrick and Matt had shared a look and in an unspoken agreement, downed their cups as well. 

“Absolute garbage,” Patrick said, the back of his hand covering his mouth, holding back his laugh.

“Completely terrible,” Matt agreed. 

They’d all stared at the bucket in silence. 

“We should probably have at least one more to make sure?” Patrick asked, never quite ready to admit defeat. 

One more had turned to two and into a painful next morning but the plans they’d made late into the night — adjustments to the brew, better equipment and more attention paid to the process — had paid off. 

And they really had. Patrick couldn’t deny that, walking slowly through the brew room, large stainless tanks towering over him, all signs of how far they’d come. He stops only a moment to quietly watch the bubbling in the airlock chamber, and satisfied, he crosses the room to the bin of hops, picking up a few buds. Rubbing the hops between his fingers releases the oils and extracts a woody, earthy scent.

He and Matt had moved from that small dorm room the first year, to a small apartment and finally a house they shared with two other friends, one of whom became Matt’s wife, Sam. And with each move, their equipment and knowledge grew, and by those final days of summer and school, it was only natural to host one last party. Classmates, teammates and friends, all invited to say goodbye to their Uni days and each other. 

Four pristine kegs lined the fence of the backyard, each containing a perfected brew, the artery of the party.

Patrick had sampled from each, creating a heady buzz that moved him slowly through the night. With his mind pleasantly numb, he filled his solo cup again and took a sip, watching the people around him. A hotly contested beer pong game, his best friend holding court in front of a large group, and two women cuddled close together on a hammock, soft words and softer smiles shared between them. A familiar ache, something close to longing fluttered in his chest; he took this as his cue to move on. He took a deep sip and let his feet carry him inside, finding a spot against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor.

Just as his eyes drifted shut, he felt a presence beside him.

“You doing okay, Brewer?” 

Patrick smiled at the voice, recognizing it immediately. Steven played outfield with him in their beer league. His constant grins and easy going nature toned down Patrick’s more competitive flair. 

“Always,” Patrick said but sucked in a surprise breath when he felt a strong warm hand on his thigh. He looked down and studied the long fingers, blunt nails and dusting of blond hair.

He thought of the two women outside, so comfortable, happy.

His heart raced.

“You think I have a chance with Trish?” Steven asked, and Patrick finally glanced up. He followed Steven’s line of sight towards the woman in question; field hockey captain, sticking around to do her doctorate and play another season. Patrick dropped his eyes back to the hand on his thigh and forced out a cliche, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Way out of your league.” 

Steven laughed. 

“Right?” 

But he gave Patrick another identity crisis thigh squeeze before hoisting himself to his feet. 

“Can’t hurt to say hello. I’ll come find you later, bro.” 

He left with a wink and all Patrick could do was close his eyes, head thumping back against the wall. He brushed his hand up and down his thigh where he could still feel the heat. 

“Patrick!” 

Patrick’s head snaps up and towards the voice. Matt stands in the doorway pulling on latex gloves, watching Patrick with raised brows. 

“Sorry, I spaced out. When you get started, check tank two; the temp is at the low end.” 

Matt nods but doesn’t say anything. 

Patrick looks around, trying to collect his thoughts. 

“You doing okay, Patty?” 

Patrick almost barks out a laugh hearing those words echoed back. 

Just remembering that crush I had on our center fielder back in college. No biggie. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he tosses the hops into a compost bin and smiles. 

“I’m good. Anyway, it’s incorporation day. I have a meeting in…” Patrick pulls his phone from his pocket. “Shit, twenty minutes.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“I’ll see you back here after?”

“Absolutely. We’ll sample some of the new batch and see what it needs.” 

Patrick hurries from the brew room, leaving its scents and memories behind.

**xx**

Patrick doesn’t think twice about sitting down on the step. He simply gives the worn wood a quick wipe with his hand and settles down. He briefly listens to the awkward photoshoot directions happening inside and resigns himself to the inevitable wait. He flips through his incorporation papers, but having reviewed them multiple times already, it’s a cursory look at best before tucking them back into their folder. He tosses it to the side and kicks his legs out, taking a moment to people watch on Main Street, Schitt’s Creek. 

A couple across the street are unloading their truck, baskets of geraniums in pinks and reds peeking out from behind the bags of earth. His attention jumps to the right when he hears a frustrated cry and spies a young girl on her bike. She’s stuck on the small incline of the sidewalk, multicolored handlebar tassels blowing in the wind. Her father hurries over, encouraging her to try one more time and a grin breaks out across her face when she makes it to the other side. 

Patrick smiles and watches her progress down the street. He is so focused on the young girl that he doesn’t notice the footsteps until they are right before him. A shadow falls over his feet and he follows it up, taking in stark white soled sneakers, stylish black pants, and a face that makes Patrick swallow back any greeting he thought to use. 

A contrast of black lines against the summer heat, of expressive brown eyes and thick dark brows. Patrick’s heart trips in his chest. 

There’s an aloof confidence in this man’s presence and yet Patrick catches a hint of nerves in the way his silver ringed fingers tighten on the roll of paper in his hands. 

Patrick knows he’s staring but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop until he has memorized every detail so he can picture him later, when he is alone with his thoughts at home. Patrick lets his lips tick up in a smile and enjoys the swoop in his belly when those expressive eyes briefly stray to his. He watches as the man twists his papers, and he quickly recognizes the heading on the documents.

“Incorporating your business?” Patrick asks. 

The man eyes him carefully, his gaze sweeping down his chest and back up. Patrick pushes himself to maintain an easy demeanor, hoping his pounding heart doesn’t show.

“Yes.” 

“Patrick Brewer,” Patrick says, filling in the silence and extending a hand.

It seems to catch the man off guard, as if he doesn’t even realize his hand is in Patrick’s until his dark eyebrows shoot up at the warm contact. Patrick is pleased to see the corner of the stranger’s mouth fight to not give into the smile.

“David Rose,” the man finally offers softly, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. Patrick tightens his grip for just a moment, enjoying the squeeze he gets in return before dropping his hand.

David’s eyes drop from Patrick’s and move to the screen door. Patrick scrambles to keep the conversation going. 

“I don’t think we should go in there just yet,” he says just as Ray offers more inane directions inside.

“Um, okay. It’s just I had an—” 

“An appointment,” Patrick finishes for David, who again looks like he can’t decide between intrigued or annoyed.

He might be leaning towards annoyed and Patrick sort of loves it.

“Sorry. I just think we probably want to avoid the photoshoot going on in there.” 

“Look at her, but look at me.” Ray’s voice drifts through the open door.

David lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s just, I had some questions about the papers and I have another engagement soon, so I hope it’s not a long wait.” 

Patrick holds up his hands.

“I’m sure I can help you with all that out here, I’m pretty good at this stuff, and then it’ll just be a matter of dropping the papers off with Ray, no need to stay to ask him anything. Do you want to have a seat?” 

Patrick gestures to the step as if welcoming David to his office.

David eyebrows jump up as he looks down at the dusty step beside Patrick. 

“Um, these are Rick Owens, they aren’t made for whatever it is you’re suggesting.”

Patrick can’t help his delighted smile. He has no idea who Rick Owens is but can sort of appreciate the sentiment.

“One sec.” 

Patrick reaches over for his folder, tucks his papers away and lays it out flat on the step, hand sweeping out as if to say, what do you think?

David visibly balks at the suggestion but after some hesitation, carefully lowers himself to the step, casting a quick look over to Patrick. Patrick wants to tease him a little more but David’s clearly out of his comfort zone, so instead he opts for sincere. 

He nudges David with his knee and taps a finger against the papers David is now clutching tightly. 

“So what are your questions?”

It takes David a second to collect his thoughts but he finally unrolls his papers, revealing a patchwork of words, scribbles and sketches. 

Patrick bites his lip to keep from saying anything but unfortunately he can’t help the mirth dancing in his eyes. David immediately picks up on it. 

“What?” David asks, with a little shake to his shoulders and an eye roll. 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just ah, maybe we should start fresh,” Patrick offers, leaning back and reaching into his bag. Always prepared, he pulls out blank forms and a pen, poised to write. 

“Okay, David. Name of the business?” 

“Oh, um, I’m oscillating between two names at the moment so if we could just leave that one blank it would be great.”

The second question doesn’t get them any further, nor do Patrick’s sports metaphors. 

“Batting a thousand here, David,” Patrick says when they come up with another non-answer. If anything it puts David further on edge and when they go three for three David almost gets up to leave. 

“You’re right, this is pointless. I’ll just go, ah, go home and do this in another life.”

But Patrick grips his arm and holds him in place, losing his words when David’s eyes fly to his. He clears his throat, buying time.

“No, no. I’m sorry, let’s try this again. Can I see your documents? Please?”

David’s eyes drop down to his lap where the papers are rolling in on themselves and Patrick can now see that the indecision isn’t from aloofness but from care. He sees for a moment, a small bit of himself in David, in the intense desire to _get it right_. And Patrick really wants to help David get it right.

He doesn’t take the papers away but helps open them up on David’s lap. He tries to make sense of it all, rereading the buzzwords David had just listed, picking up a few other notes David hadn’t thought to mention. 

Rebranding. Consignment. Local. 

Patrick taps the words with his index finger. 

“This is good, really good, David. This is what we have to put down here.” 

He looks up and finally sees a genuine smile grace David’s face. He grins in return and nudges David’s shoulder. David is quick to try and school his reaction. 

“Obviously,” David says quietly but the slight flush of pride gives him away. 

Patrick hurries to fill in the brief description of the business.

“And you have Rose Apothecary written several times across your forms. David, you even have what looks to be a logo sketched out. I think you know what name you want.”

Patrick watches David’s ringed fingers tap a rhythm against his thigh.

“I like it,” Patrick hedges and when David still doesn’t speak up, “It’s just pretentious enough.” 

David’s fidgeting stops. 

“Would we call that pretentious, or timeless?”

Patrick’s smile is his only answer. 

He fills the name into the appropriate line and reaches for his phone in his pocket.

“We can look up the address of your store and fill that in as the business address. If you want to change it to the motel later that’s always a possibility. At least we’ll have something and I think I can easily answer the rest of the questions for you.” 

Patrick unlocks his phone, opens his maps app and hands it to David. He takes it but Patrick continues to feel David’s eyes on him. He cuts a look over and gets caught in expressive dark brown eyes.

This is it, Patrick thinks. This is why he blew up his old life and escaped. This feeling he’s been chasing his whole goddamn life but could never really put into words. And sure, maybe he’s being a little dramatic but he knows it in his gut.

Patrick has to look away, because the words he’d only let himself say aloud twice before, were now ringing loudly in his ears.

_I’m gay._

He’d whispered it to Rachel in the fading light, as they sat on the cool metal bleachers by the dusty softball field. It had been a few months since they’d called off their engagement but being there for each other was the one constant in their relationship. And so when Patrick called, Rachel showed up. 

He hadn’t realized how bad his hands were shaking until she’d taken them in her small but strong ones and squeezed him tightly. Effectively holding him together. 

_Okay, Patty. It’s going to be okay. Better even._

He was so grateful for her words and understanding and love. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he was forever indebted. 

He had said it in a rush to his parents the night before he left for Schitt’s Creek. The words catching in his throat as he tried to explain why he had to leave, why he had to get away from what felt like everything that tied him to who he wasn’t. 

His mother had finally quieted him with a hug, only letting go so his father could embrace him in turn.

But now what? It was all mostly abstract then. But now there is a very real, very beautiful man sitting impossibly close to him. Before Patrick can muster up a clever comment, an astute observation, anything really, David’s phone chimes from his pocket and interrupts Patrick’s thoughts. 

“Um, sorry. Here, I found the address.”

David hands Patrick back his phone, fumbling for his own and cursing at whatever he sees on the screen. 

“That’s my contractor. The other engagement I have this afternoon. What should I…” David says, words trailing off as he looks over his shoulder to the door of the building. 

Well, Patrick doesn’t know what to do about the beautiful boy, but he does know how to incorporate a business. 

“I can give your forms to Ray and then bring the confirmation by your store later,” Patrick offers, holding up his phone displaying a pin on the map. “Only if that’s alright with you, of course,” he adds quickly, cursing himself for being pushy. 

David glances at his phone and back to Patrick, eyes narrowing just a little before coming to a decision.

“You’re sure?” David asks, but the words sound cautious. 

“Absolutely. It’s what I do.” _It’s what I do_. Who talks like that? Patrick could kick himself. 

David’s phone chimes again and it seems to make the decision for him. 

“Okay, I guess. Um, thank you.” 

Patrick nods and watches David rise and make his way down the walk. He glances back once and Patrick offers him his most reassuring smile. David doesn’t look completely assured but he also doesn’t demand his papers back so Patrick counts it as a win. 

Gathering himself, Patrick checks the pinned address on his phone. Then checks it again. _Unbelievable._ Rose Apothecary is the storefront right beside the brewery. He had hope yet for Summer in Schitt’s Creek.

**xx**

“Oof, Patty. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you play this bad. What’s going on?” 

Patrick leans down, palms spread wide against the weathered wood long table and stares down his cousin at the opposite end. Two red solo cups remain in front of Matt, while one lonely cup stands on Patrick’s side. 

“You never could finish, Matt. Throw the ball and we'll see who wins,” Patrick says with an eyeroll, knowing he’s being a little testy but he doesn’t like losing and his mind isn’t really on the game tonight.

Instead, it keeps drifting to the dark storefront next door and the man he’d been on the lookout for but hasn’t spotted. 

But instead of throwing, Matt rolls the ping pong ball between his palms, studying Patrick, head tilted to the side. 

“So explain to me again how you left here to drop off our incorporation papers, and come back with not one but two businesses? For someone who isn’t even sure they want to be here, you sure are adapting pretty well.”

“Matt!” 

Patrick turns at the sound and sees his cousin’s wife Sam return, beer bottles dangling from her fingers. She lays one down in front of him and gives his back a familiar rub. Patrick leans into it and gives Matt an indulgent smile. Matt waves the look away, the banter familiar between the three of them. 

“Patty wants to be here with us, even if it’s just for the summer, right?” Sam asks. 

Patrick wraps an arm around her shoulders and feels himself relax. 

“Of course.” 

Patrick is just about to reach for his new bottle when Matt takes the shot. Patrick just manages to drop his bottle back to the table without spilling, before swatting the bounced ball away. He doesn’t watch where it rolls, instead crosses his arms over his chest and stares his cousin down, his confidence returning.

“Why would you even do that? I only have one cup?” Patrick asks. 

Matt shrugs, not seeming too concerned about the missed shot and offers, “Style points?” 

Patrick picks up his bottle and points it across the table with a laugh.

“That’s why you always lose, and are going to lose again as soon as I find that ball.” 

Patrick glances down to follow the ball’s trajectory only to pull up short for the second time today. And for the second time today, he sees the white soled sneakers and black jeans. Except this time they are crouched down, picking up the ping pong ball. 

“David,” Patrick almost sighs his name and David’s head shoots up. “What— what are you doing here?”

“The door was open. I heard voices.”

Patrick can see David’s eyes bouncing around the room, brows furrowing, distaste and confusion warring for prominence on his face. 

Patrick takes a step in his direction, not sure where to start but knowing he needs to say something soon. Before David can jump to the wrong conclusions, before his cousins say anything, but as he is about to open his mouth David’s eyes land on the chalk sign on the back wall 

COMING SOON: CREEKSIDE BREWERY.

David reads the words and then turns to Patrick and reads the same slogan on Patrick’s tee shirt. 

“Oh my god,” David whispers, and then again louder, “OH MY GOD.” 

“David.” 

David shakes his head and Patrick says a silent _oh my god_ to himself. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Patrick pleads. 

“What does it look like?” David asks with a snark. 

“Well like I, um,”

“I thought you worked for Ray.” 

“No, I told you I was filing my own papers.” 

“That is NOT what you said.” 

Before Patrick can defend himself David is off on another tangent. 

“Was this a way to get your hands on my space before I could incorporate? Pretty convenient, you being right next door. I already signed a lease, you can’t take this from me. What did you do with my papers? Throw them out?”

Dammit.

“David, hold on. Your confirmation is right here. I swear,” Patrick says, hoping David listens and points towards the bar where his folder lies. “I tried to bring it by, but it didn’t seem like anyone was at the store and I wasn’t sure if I should go by the motel.”

Patrick takes a tentative step towards the bar and grabs the documents. He quickly brings them over to David who scans everything. Patrick breathes out a very small sigh when David’s eyes fall to the stamp at the bottom.

“It’s all been filed, you just need to send payment with your case number and you’re all set,” Patrick says softly, like that will help. “I wrote down the address on the post-it note, here.” He taps the yellow square at the top center of the page. 

David doesn’t say anything. 

“I just wanted to help,” Patrick whispers, only loud enough for David to hear but Patrick can see it isn’t enough.

And in the same moment, David realizes he is still holding on to the ping pong ball. 

“Ugh. Maybe next time don’t lie. I’ve had enough of that for a fucking lifetime.” 

David tosses the ball towards the table and leaves without another word. Patrick watches him, helpless. 

Neither of them see the ball bounce once and land in Patrick’s remaining cup. 

“Well, I don’t know what just happened but I do know you just finally lost a game. What was his name? David?” Matt asks, absolutely no help, hand already poised at the chalkboard where they’ve been keeping score. 

Patrick hangs his head. Sam joins him, saying nothing but giving his arm a friendly squeeze.

Patrick 0, David 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from John Mayer's Waiting on the Day


	2. Whistling Paddler English Ale

The camper trailer brightens with golden hues as the sun begins to crest over the tall maples at the far end of the field. The morning mist wisps its way through the tall grass but as the sun rises higher, the rays begin to burn it away, leaving only a dewy memory on the long green blades. 

Patrick restlessly watches the morning unfold, his body itching to move, yet forced to sit still at the tiny kitchen table. He sips his tea while the clock over the stove slowly moves towards a more respectable hour. He taps his fingers against the wood table and eyes his darkened laptop.

He only manages to hold off for a few more ticks of the clock before drawing his fingers across the track pad. The computer lights up, revealing a map with a highlighted radius with pins scattered in the circle. He clicks on each pin, knowing already what lies below. 

Honey farm, artisan cheeses, vineyards, and woodworkers. 

“This is stupid.” 

He closes the laptop and stuffs it into his messenger bag with more forced than necessary, finishing the last bit of his tea and getting up to place it in the sink. 

He checks the clock again. Still early but if he walks into town, he’ll kill a few more minutes and hopefully get out of his head. 

Keys, wallet, phone, all stuffed into his front pocket, he quickly gives himself a once over in the mirror. His best jeans and a blue button down: a little more put together than the brewery tee shirt and work jeans of the day before.

He thinks of the navy sport coat hanging in his closet but also thinks of the ribbing his cousin will give him if he shows up with it on, so instead he opts to undo the second button on his shirt and attempts his bravest face. 

_Eh._

He doesn’t quite know what he’s trying to prove or if he’ll even see David _or_ if David will even want to see him. But he’s going to try. 

**xx**

Besides not explaining he didn't work for Ray, and that he too was filing incorporation papers, Patrick had also failed to mention the happy coincidence of their neighbouring businesses. 

He slowly walks over to the unmarked storefront and wonders if David would have actually deemed it a happy coincidence. The brewery being right next door to what will be Rose Apothecary didn’t strike Patrick as a place David would consider part of his carefully curated aesthetic. 

As Patrick takes in the darkened interior, he feels it safe to peek inside. Half the town isn’t awake anyway, he doubts David is in yet either. 

He spots an assortment of brown boxes piled haphazardly around the room in various states of unpack. Bottles and jars in a multitude of sizes partially cover two large oak tables that take up a big part of the room and a few pieces of half assembled furniture sit propped against the far wall.

Patrick is immediately curious if some of the products are identical to what he’s found in his searches of the area. If he and David's ideas might overlap. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he liked David’s idea. There wasn’t anything like it in the area, the model was very sustainable and the possibilities were endless with what the store could carry. It left room for growth and change and—

And the man running it probably wanted nothing to do with him but— Patrick scanned the room one more time, imagining it full, even imagining it carrying some Creekside Brew merchandise. For their two businesses, it could be the start of a beautiful friendship. 

Patrick finally smiled. 

He’ll apologize, he’ll bring some ideas, he’ll fix this. 

With a determined nod, Patrick strode the few steps to Creekside, unlocking the door and letting himself in.

**xx**

“You’re here early.”

Patrick blinks up from his computer as Matt shoulders his way in the front door, carrying a large crate. He deposits it with a flourish beside Patrick on the bartop and eyes him curiously. 

Patrick rubs the back of his neck and gestures to his computer screen. 

“Mmm, couldn’t sleep so I decided to get a few things done here. I think we may be able to get an exclusive deal on the hops from Elm Valley if we like what they produce.” 

Matt leans over his shoulder and scans the email.

“Also wanted to make sure you didn’t screw up my batch yesterday.” 

Matt gives him a quick cuff to the side of his head before Patrick can duck away from it. 

“Har, har.” 

Matt turns away, pulling what appears to be miniature canoe paddles from the crate he’d brought in, laying them out on the bar. 

“You sure that’s all?” Matt asks, not making eye contact. 

Patrick’s heart stutters, wondering if he really is that transparent. He couldn’t be, could he? But then why did Matt look like he knew more than he was letting on.

“Yeah man, still getting used to sleeping in a new place.” 

Matt looks up, still with that curious look, so Patrick pushes on. 

“Where’d you get these?”

He picks up a paddle and runs his palm along the finely sanded wood, noting the 5 holes in the blade and the Creekside Brewing name laser cut into the handle. 

“Sam found this local guy, Jake. Nice guy, a little intense, maybe. He runs a small wood shop, mostly furniture but agreed to make these for us. We’ll be able to put our tasters in it and get kudos for supporting local business at the same time.”

“Really nice. Does this guy sell out of his shop or uh, you found him at a store?” 

Patrick is grateful his cousin has already abandoned his side as he asks his question. Handcrafted wood furniture could be a really nice get for David. 

“Out of his shop, I think.” 

Patrick jots down the name and makes a mental note to ask Sam about it. 

“Well if you’re here, better come check on your brew. God forbid we ruin the inaugural batch of Whistling Paddler.”

Patrick casts a quick glance outside, pretty sure he hadn’t missed David yet but nods, he’ll check again later. 

Patrick falls into a well practiced rhythm with his cousin, working side by side. The silence interspersed with casual sports talk, lamenting the latest trade but praising the play of the most recent call up. They check on the tanks and the new bottling system and Patrick begins to feel a sense of satisfaction watching it all come together. And for the first time in a while, the ache in his chest is strangely absent. He thinks maybe he doesn’t have to give up everything in order to embrace a new start.

Lost in thought, neither realizing the noon hour until Sam comes in, hands brandishing bags from the cafe across the street. They reconvene in the front, straddling the benches next to their long tables and eagerly splitting sandwiches, fries and drinks. Patrick chows down and manages to follow the conversation about supplies arriving and family questions from back home until he catches David walking across the street from the cafe; sunglasses on, white and black sweater standing out against the summer sun, coffee in hand. 

Patrick immediately starts watching the clock, counting down the minutes until he can come up with a believable excuse to duck out and try to apologize to David. 

“Hey Pat, you were in early. You can head out if you want to, uh, visit the town or um, whatever.” 

Patrick jerks his head up, only to find Matt also looking out the front window. Sam has a gentle smile and Patrick struggles to respond even though he’s getting the out he wants. 

“Oh well, you didn’t want to finish the bottling, uh,” he says but trails off when his cousin finally looks over, his look matching his wife. 

“Nah, we gotta put Sam to work. It’s cool.” 

Sam squeezes his hand and it feels like she’s squeezing his heart. He’s not sure how much he’s reading into it or if maybe his parents or Rachel had said something.

“Have you spoken to Rach or my parents lately?” he finally gets out but they both shake their heads. 

“Ok, right. Well, I guess I will go, enjoy the afternoon,” Patrick says, internally cursing how stiff and transparent he sounds.

“I’ll clean up, go on, Patty,” Sam offers, patting his hand, and starts clearing the table. 

Well, then. 

He looks around the room. If he’s really leaving he should take his bag and notes and, he eyes the tall brew fridge. He could bring a few samples, really sell… 

Sell what, Patrick? Yourself?

“I’m just going to…” he trails off walking over to the fridge, taking out a growler of their most celebrated beer. If it just so happened to be the one he created, who is he to deny the general consensus. “I’m ah, out.” 

“Mmmhmm.” 

“Sure.” 

He squints at two of the people he’s been closest to over the years. Matt stuffs the last bit of fries in his mouth and Sam intently stares at her phone. 

“Okay well.” 

Okay well what? Leave now. He’s not sure what he wants to say, he’s not sure why he’s still here, and to be honest he’s not sure what he’s doing in general but for some reason there’s a bit of a hysterical laugh bubbling in his chest.

They’re all being ridiculous. He’s sort of really grateful for these two loons at the moment. 

“Right. Goodbye, then.” And with a final nod, he crams all of things into his messenger bag and steps out into the sun. 

_Oh, God._ Now what?

**xx**

Patrick clings to the Cafe Tropical bag and coffee and with more determination than he actually feels, ignores the closed sign and lets himself in. 

His eyes immediately find David across the room, precariously perched on a step ladder attempting to install a shelf. 

“It took you long enough. I nearly _died_ a few minutes ago. Your excuse had better be good.” 

David turns as he’s speaking and in a blink, his eyes widen and he nearly drops everything. 

“Fuck!” 

The word seems to be tilted more in his direction than at the situation in general but Patrick ignores it and rushes across the room, making it just in time to catch the opposite end of the shelf before it comes tumbling down. 

Silence, interrupted only by David’s harsh breathing, falls between them.

Patrick slowly looks over and— _yup,_ still the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Even if he’s currently shooting daggers in his general direction. Patrick can’t help but let his mouth tick up, just a little. 

“Hello.”

“Really?” 

Patrick shrugs but then gestures to the shelf. 

“If you want to let go, I’ve got this.” 

David stares him down, lips in a tight line but eventually lets go and carefully steps down from the ladder. Once on solid ground, David takes a calming breath and then he's spinning to Patrick, all arms, waving in his general direction.

“What! Are you doing here?” 

“Um, bringing you a coffee?” Patrick doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question and yet here is he and there David is looking unimpressed. “And a danish?” 

David’s eyes glance to the bag. 

“And a beer? One of ours. Maybe our businesses could help each other out?” 

David frowns. 

Okay, that’s a no to the beer. 

“And well, to apologize.” 

“Are you bribing me?” 

“No!”

Patrick struggles to put down the bag and coffee on a lower shelf, all the while balancing the one in his hand. David watches the whole thing, not moving from his spot but Patrick swears he sees a small tug at the corner of his mouth. Once everything is down, Patrick takes a deep breath and walks over to David. 

“Hi, I’m Patrick Brewer. I’m in town to help my cousin and wife get their brewery up and running. I just got into town last week. We met yesterday at Ray’s.” 

Patrick sticks out his hand and this time, David hesitates. 

“I’m really sorry for omitting some key information yesterday. I was eager to help and got ahead of myself.” 

David’s hand finally finds his and his lips twist in a half smile. Patrick warms at the touch, loving the press of David’s rings and strong grip. 

“David Rose.” It’s said softly, tentative. 

“I really am sorry, David.” 

David nods but doesn’t say anymore and crosses his arms over his chest when he takes his hand back. 

“Is that really for me?”

David nods towards the snacks. 

Patrick eagerly hands them over and then takes a step back to look at the shelf. 

“Were you nailing that shelf in?” 

“Trying to.” 

David opens the coffee and finally smiles when he sees Patrick got his regular. Thank you, Twyla. 

“You should be putting wall anchors, using screws. It’s going to come down as soon as you put weight on it if you just nail it in.” 

David’s eyes cut from Patrick to the shelf. He looks panicked. 

“I could install it. Show you.” 

“No, no. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” 

“You really don’t.” 

Patrick laughs.

“Please? Would you let me do this for you? We have what you need next door.” 

Patrick doesn’t wait for David’s approval, the silence is enough and if he mumbles his way through needing to borrow the tool box for just a bit when his cousin looks up, then, that’s later Patrick’s problem. 

He returns and opens it up on the counter just as David is biting into his danish and if the way David’s eyes close and the soft moan he lets out causes some other reactions in Patrick well, that’s also later Patrick’s problem— or gift depending on how he wanted to look at it. 

David licks his lips and looks sheepishly at Patrick. 

Yup, definitely a gift.

“I just, ah, forgot my toolbox at home today,” David says and looks anywhere but at Patrick until the silence stretches on too long and finally slides his eyes over. Patrick gives him a kind smile. 

“That’s why it's good to be friendly with the neighbours.” 

“Mmm.” 

Patrick gets to work. 

**xx**

The shelf goes up smoothly. 

Patrick methodically lays out everything he needs, and doesn’t fill the air between them with unnecessary chit chat, instead he hums along to the dulcet harmonies drifting from somewhere across the room as if it's a regular day. 

He measures twice and marks the wall. 

Did he just catch David checking him out? 

Or he could just be suspicious. Patrick can’t tell. Yet.

But he also can’t help but smile a little wider and slide his eyes over to David a little more often and each time he does, he grows a little more confident.

“What?” David finally asks with a small shake of his shoulders. 

Patrick hangs on to the way David’s eyes shine when he looks at him.

“Nothing at all. You want to hand me the level?” 

When David looks around the room, Patrick catches eyes and nods towards the table.

“Right there, the long metal thing, yeah that. Thank you.” 

They move well around each other.

David watches and helps in with surprising ease when patiently guided and so Patrick finds more ways for David to assist him, enjoying the satisfied expression that crosses David’s face with each new success. 

He leans into the feeling, letting it settle in his belly and lighten a bit of the weight on his shoulders. He really never knew this thrill before and once he lets it in, he can stop. It’s like a landslide of emotions held back by some invisible dam he’s been building his whole life. He thought it would be messy to let it crumble but here in front of this breathtaking man it just feels right. David watches him curiously but Patrick doesn’t let on, instead he takes a deep breath and drills in the final screw. 

They take a step back to admire their handy work. 

“Not bad.” 

“Thank you, Patrick.” 

David isn’t looking at the shelf any longer, Patrick can feel his eyes on him and for some reason that small thank you has the color rising to his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck, ready to wave David off but remembers some of the unfinished furniture he noticed earlier in the day. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to get up today?” Patrick asks. 

“Well I mean, I suppose since you’re already here?” 

**xx**

“Okay, that’s it. We’re done. No more, please,” David declares, hours later, flopping onto the counter at the cash, head cradled on his folded arms. 

“Okay, David.” 

David peeks up, but doesn’t lift his head, instead rests his chin on his arms, eyes scanning the room. 

“Can’t believe we got so much done.” 

Patrick looks around. 

They’d assembled and anchored a large wall unit, put together two a-frame ladder shelves at the front of the store and countless other storage boxes and bins. The look and aesthetic David was aiming for was coming together and despite his complaints now, Patrick knew he’d been pleased with every new piece placed in its rightful home. 

He takes a moment to look outside, surprised at how quickly the light is fading, closing in on their day but Patrick isn’t ready to let go just yet. He doesn’t know how he’ll handle what he’s feeling when he’s alone but here? Here he wants to hang on just a little longer, get a few actual words in, stay in this little bubble of hope and unknown possibilities.

“What do you say we drink to a successful day?” Patrick asks, walking over to the display fridge and pulling out the growler he’d stowed away earlier. 

“Mmm, right. Your business proposition. I’m not sure beer pong and microbrews is quite my brand.”

“Maybe we’ll save the beer pong for when we know each other a little better. Although, I think we could make quite the team.”

David’s mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. Patrick hurries to fill the silence. 

“Anyway, full disclosure, it was more like I was covering all my bases in case you wouldn’t talk to me.”

David eyes the brown bottle wearily but slips beyond the curtain and emerges with the two plastic wine glasses.

“In that case can I suggest a red for next time? A Cabernet, maybe a Syrah?”

Next time. Patrick smiles.

“Noted.”

Despite his apprehension, David places the glasses on the counter, watching as Patrick cracks the seal and pours them both glasses of the dark honeyed colored ale. 

“So be honest with what you think. I won’t take it too much to heart but know it’s a CBA winner and—,” Patrick pauses at David’s look of confusion and explains, “Canadian Brewing Awards.”

David nods slowly and picks it up. 

“It’s also my own brew so…”

David puts the glass back down with a huff. 

“Well that’s a lot of pressure. Craft beer isn’t usually my first choice, so you can’t really expect me to…” David trails off and Patrick pushes the glass a little closer. 

“It’s okay, David. Give it a chance, it might surprise you.” 

“Mmm.” 

Patrick holds up his glass. 

“To the success of Rose Apothecary and to second chances.” 

Patrick isn’t surprised at how much he means those words but he is determined to make them true. 

“Second chances,” David whispers and taps his glass to his. 

So he wasn’t lying when he said he won’t be offended if David doesn’t like the beer, it’s not for everyone but he sort of hopes he likes it. 

“That’s um—”

David takes another sip.

“That’s not terrible.”

Patrick’s laugh bubbles out. 

“A ringing endorsement.” 

“No, no. I think I like it. There’s caramel?” 

Patrick’s smile widens and David matches it. 

“Yes! It balances the hoppiness that some people find overpowering in craft beer. We also have a pilsner or a lager if that’s more your style. We’re testing out two new brews with hops from Elm Valley, so hopefully that goes well. It would be nice to market it as truly locally sourced. A little like, here.”

Patrick trails off catching himself in his excitement, feeling silly.

“What?” he asks when David just smiles and sips. 

“Nothing. So this is your passion? Beer and-” David waves his hand in the general direction of the brewery. “Bros?” 

Patrick chokes on his beer, just managing to cover his mouth before he truly embarrasses himself.

“No!” 

Well, sort of. Just maybe not in the way he’s thinking.

David’s right eyebrow jumps up and he stares him down. Patrick clears his throat again and paces the store. Is that it? Is that really the vibe he gives off? He absently picks up a bottle of hand cream, and reads the label: all natural, milk and honey. He puts the bottle back. 

“No?” David pushes. “So you weren’t in your dorm room with your buddies, making some undrinkable sludge instead of going to class?” 

Patrick mumbles something against his cup, looking anywhere but at David, suddenly hating everything about that statement. Hating how unbelievably transparent he apparently is. 

“What was that?” 

“I said, I went to class.” 

David looks pleased but it's not the whole truth. Patrick knows it’s not, not anymore. 

“Alright fine, you’re not wrong but-” 

Patrick struggles. How can he explain something he can’t even fully explain to himself yet. How can he make David understand and he so wants David to understand. 

“I’m not sure how I feel about the assumptions you’re making.” 

David weighs Patrick’s words, sipping his beer, eyes turning serious.

“People have been making assumptions about me my whole life,” David says and it almost sounds like an accusation. Patrick definitely feels at least a little chastised. What does he even know about David other than the hopeful assumptions he’s been making.

But then David's expression softens, and he takes in Patrick in with a thoughtful gaze and shrugs.

“That's why I brought this couple home one day in college, and just told my parents to deal with it. Blew their assumptions out of the water.”

And that gets Patrick’s heart racing again. So maybe he’s not wrong, so maybe he should try to explain.

“Look, I’ve enjoyed the process over the years. It was something to do in between classes, it brought friends together and it's been... fun. Testing and trying out new flavors, improving the mix and making something people actually like. But it’s not…” 

Patrick looks around the store again. All the empty shelves and spaces waiting to be filled, all the potential and possibilities. He can’t help but think of himself.

“It’s not my life. Not anymore.”

“But, you came here and opened a brewery.” 

Patrick sighs and leans back against the centre table. 

“It’s Matt and Sam’s passion project. I’m just a numbers guy to help get them started. I don’t want my past to define me. At least not anymore.”

David nods slowly and comes around the counter to carefully refill their cups. 

“Ok.” 

“Yeah?” Patrick asks, tracing the rim of his cup with his index finger but David doesn’t answer. Patrick looks up and he gets the sense David was waiting for his full attention. 

“Yeah. I can understand that, more than you might believe.” 

“Tell me?” 

The question slips past his lips before he can think twice. Unsure if he’s stepping over some invisible line, Patrick opens his mouth to backpedal but David is already speaking. 

“For a long time all I did was define myself by my past but I think I'm finally at a place, with this opportunity, to carve a new path. To prove that I can do something on my own.”

“You can.” 

David shrugs, “We’ll see. I’ve failed many times before. Look at the shelf.” 

For a second time, Patrick does. It’s level and solid and ready for merchandise. 

“Sometimes we just need a little help, David.” 

When David only sips his drink and looks around, Patrick dares to push on. 

“I could help.”

“I think you’ve done more than enough to apologize for yesterday. I absolve you, Patrick.” 

David finishes his glass and pulls his phone from his pocket. Patrick feels a little like he’s being dismissed, like David doesn’t quite believe him, yet-- 

“I want to.” 

He gets that long considering look again and before David can protest he continues. 

“I’m up early-”

“Oh that won’t work for me.”

Patrick bites his lip and shakes his head. 

“What I mean is, I’m up and at the brewery early. I’ll come by again in the afternoon.” 

And now Patrick decides it’s okay to take his leave, before he can say how much he really wants to help, how much he thinks he would rather be in this store with David. He gathers his bag and slides the strap over his head. He pauses with his hand on the door handle. 

“Goodnight, David.” 

“Goodnight, Patrick.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whistling Paddler is from one of my favorite local Breweries; Whitewater Brewing Company.  
> For this story, I like to think the logo on the beer is Patrick. :)  
> Fun story, the original label didn't have the tent in the way but the LCBO wouldn't carry the beer with the paddler's ass on display so they had to add the tent. The more you know!
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/4gx9Jez)  
> 


	3. Raspberry Pie Pilsner

The acoustics of the room are not the best but Patrick isn’t playing for anyone but himself. He lets his strumming echo off the walls and loses himself in the sound. He walks the dusty concrete floor, head nodding along to the familiar rhythm, a song often played around campfires and house parties, the chorus enthusiastically joined and sung loudly. Patrick hums the words for now, pausing when he reaches the bar. 

His fingers slide across the track pad of the computer, scrolling down to see the results of his test cashflow forecast. When everything checks out, he gives a small whoop and saves the file. He checks the time and nods.

Five to noon. Five more minutes. Just a little longer and he can leave. 

This has pretty much been his routine for the last two weeks; fill his morning with as many things as he can, then watch the clock until he can reasonably show up next door. 

Actually, Patrick had been feeling good about his mornings, albeit perhaps a little sheepish. After waking up for the third day in a row, hard and aching and needing to take care of himself, he’d found a local hiking trail to burn off some extra energy and compartmentalize some of those thoughts, all which involved a beautiful, dark haired man. 

He still flushed if he ever caught himself thinking about those mornings around David but two weeks in, at least David had stopped asking him if he was okay, instead he tucked away a quiet smirk and moved to the next box or task ahead of them. 

God, _David._

Patrick needs to do _something_. He just isn’t sure what. He thinks there’s something there but as much as he wants, it’s scary as hell to step over the line. Besides, David has only just stopped acting surprised that Patrick is still showing up every day. How surprised would he be if Patrick just asked if he could kiss him? He can’t do that. 

Can he?

Patrick groans and strums his guitar again, walking his well worn path, he thinks of his plans from the night before. They always seem good at night but then in the light of day, eh, not so much. 

But he’d been doing research. He’d found some grants David could apply for, David would have more start up money, he’d have enough to hire an employee. Patrick could be that employee, he could stay.

He could do that. He could suggest that. _Then_ he could suggest discussing it over dinner. Maybe. 

A business transaction, he’d bring red wine. 

Patrick smiles at the thought. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Patty? Smiling pretty big over there.” 

Patrick spins. 

Matt is tossing his coat on the bar, reaching behind for his clipboard and gloves. 

“Nothing.” 

Perfect, Patrick. He won't suspect anything.

Patrick doesn’t look up, instead pulls his guitar over his head and settles it in its backpack case. He looks around and decides to lean it behind the bar.

“Haven’t heard you play that one in a while. We should have a barbecue at your place. You’re set up for that aren’t you? Firepit?”

“Sure,” Patrick agrees absently, checking his pocket for his keys and phone. 

“You could invite David. You know, if you wanted to.” 

Patrick stops and looks up. 

“Ah, yeah. I guess I could do that.” 

Why is his heart racing, why does this feel different, why does it matter, why can’t he just say it? 

Maybe he’ll tell Matt tomorrow, he just needs to go through with his plan with David first, then he can say it out loud, then he doesn’t have to be so alone with all this. 

“Is something going on there?” 

Or they could have this conversation right now. 

Patrick stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a few steps. 

“What? I’ve just been-” 

“Helping David. I know.” 

“It’s not impacting the work here, I swear. I did the tank checks this morning, the business license is on the desk in the back and I just ran the cashflow forecast.” 

Matt holds up his hand and meets Patrick halfway. 

“Patrick, I’m not making sure you’ve done your homework.” 

Patrick looks at his cousin, really looks. This is someone he’s known his whole life. Patrick may not have a brother, but he thinks Matt is just as close as any brother could be. There’s not much they haven’t experienced together, from the most mundane to the craziest nights, to the quiet comfort they usually have of just _knowing_ each other. 

So why is it so hard to say those two words?

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“Sure.” 

Patrick almost rolls his eyes at himself, instead he grips the back of the chair in front of his until his knuckles turn white. 

“And that it wouldn’t change anything?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Matt does roll his eyes this time, but there’s an exasperated fondness to it, and it’s what does it. The patience, the knowing it’s going to be ok, the saying it without really saying it. 

“Alright, Pat. Say hi to David for—” 

“I’m gay.” 

They stare at each other for a beat, Patrick is surprised to hear a car drive by outside over the rushing in his ears. He looks out the front window, sees people enter Cafe Tropical and others walking down the street, going about their day. Nothing’s different. He blinks back against the sudden rush of feelings and when he feels like he has it under control, he slowly looks back to his cousin. 

He’s surprised to see the emotion there.

“All right.” Matt says quietly. 

“All right?” asks Patrick, barely looking up from the floor.

“Yeah.” 

And god, why hadn’t it said it sooner. He feels so much better. _Shit_. He looks up to the vaulted ceiling, traces the wood beams. 

“Yeah,” Patrick repeats and it really does feel good. He lets out a long held breath and smiles. It’s reflected back. 

“Thanks for trusting me.” 

Patrick shakes his head, Matt had to practically pull it out of him.

“Thanks for figuring it out and getting on my case.” 

Matt gets a determined look, and Patrick waits for the inevitable follow up question about David.

“So, do we hug it out now or something?” 

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. 

“Nah, man. No hug necessary.” Patrick laughs.

“Just get in here.” 

And before Patrick can pretend to protest any further, Matt’s pulled him into a tight hug and yeah, maybe a hug wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“Thanks for just, everything.” 

Matt doesn’t say anything, just hugs him tighter. 

“Can I come in now?” 

They pull apart at the sound of Sam’s small voice. Patrick laughs and waves her over. She hurries, and slots in under his arm. She squeezes him tight around the waist. 

“You two plan this?” he asks, definitely knowing the answer. 

“No,” they both answer at exactly the same time.

Patrick looks down and raises a brow. 

“Yes,” Sam admits, caving quickly. “So, David?” she asks with an excited wiggle, clearly happy to finally be able to ask. 

And what the hell. 

“Yeah, I really fucking like him.” 

“And?” Sam continues to prompt moving away allowing Patrick some space.

“And nothing,” he says and before she can respond, he cuts her off, “Yet.”

They both look like they want to say more but Patrick appreciates their restraint. 

“So on that note, I’m just going to… go.” 

At their nod, he drops his head and walks out, hoping this may have made his next steps easier. He feels better, he’s armed with a plan, grants, maybe some wine. 

You got this, Brewer.

**xx**

Brewer doesn’t have this. 

What he does get are quick introductions to David’s sister Alexis and his friend Stevie, who both eye him like David eyed his phone when the new Dries Van Noten line dropped. According to David they have been helping out, just conveniently in the mornings when Patrick isn’t around. 

When Patrick is being an optimist, he hopes it’s because David wants his afternoons alone with him but now he’s beginning to think it’s because he can’t tolerate them any longer than a few hours in the morning. 

And at the present all they seem to be doing is driving David crazy and throwing all of Patrick’s plans out the window. 

“Can I take payment in wine for all my help?” Stevie asks from her perch on the counter, holding a bottle in each hand. 

“ _You_ can take a long walk off a short pier,” David snaps instantly, plucking the wine from her grasp, sliding it back into the box. “We don’t even have the full shipment yet.” 

“You could try the body milk,” the words slip past Patrick’s lips before he could pull them back. 

“Don’t,” David commands, clearly already having had the talk with both of them that you couldn’t actually drink body milk. 

“Sorry,” Patrick whispers but shares a small grin with Stevie until his attention is drawn across the room to Alexis who was sampling one of the lip balms. 

“You know, David, you have to be prepared to survive at least eighteen months without making any profit,” Alexis says to her reflection in the mirror. “Do you think you’re actually ready for that?”

David stops in his tracks and closes his eyes. 

“Sure. Whatever,” David says, his voice losing the fight.

“Are you going to get an electrician for these lights?” Stevie asks and oh my god, this was devolving at a frightening pace. Patrick needs to do something. He crosses the room quickly and lays a gentle hand on David’s arm. 

“This is a disaster. What am I going to do, Patrick?” David whispers, finally opening his eyes. 

“David, you know your business plan is solid. The consignment model gives you the breathing room you need. For everything else we can make a list. I can help and I was going to mention it to you later but I was doing some research last night and there’s some grants you can apply for. You’ll have more start up money, you could probably even pay, um—” Patrick trails off, feeling eyes on him. He shakes his head, this is absolutely not how he thought this day was going to go but here he was. “You could pay someone to work alongside you.” 

“You could pay me,” Alexis pipes up from the back. 

“Out.” 

“Ew, David, don’t be such a grumpy puppy.” 

Instead of letting David respond, Patrick continues, “I have the papers with me, we could go over them—” 

Say at the cafe, Patrick. Say it, it’s easy. _At. The. Cafe._

“We could go over them right now, here.” 

Patrick imagines the little voice inside his head flipping him off and leaving for good but then David finally smiles and maybe that little voice peeks back in. 

“And if I don’t get the money?” 

“Oh, I’ll get you the money.” 

David opens and closes his mouth and finally settles on a soft, “Okay.” 

It takes a few minutes to usher the women out of the store, and a few more after that for David to calm down but when he finally does, he settles close to Patrick at the small desk in the stockroom. Patrick lays out the forms. David looks down.

“You shouldn’t be doing all this.” 

“Meh, I really don’t have any friends here yet, so it gives me something to do.” 

David purses his lips and then finally lets them slide into a crooked smile and Patrick thinks, here now, he could kiss him. He could kiss this man and he thinks David would let him.

He thinks and thinks and thinks about it.

He could kiss him but he can also help him and he thinks that might be what David needs most. 

So for now he can help him get the money, and later he can circle back to the kissing thing.

There’s also the matter of discussing who David could pay as a business partner but we all have to have priorities and for now, Patrick has his. 

**xx**

“When I gave you a key to the store, I didn’t expect you to use it to come in and do more,” David says as he breezes in just before ten. He places Patrick’s tea in front of him at the cash and gives him a look that says, you shouldn’t be so pleased, when Patrick lights up. “I saw you in the window and circled back to the cafe,” David says by way of explanation but Patrick catches his smile as he disappears into the stockroom to deposit his bag. 

“I think you should get used to it,” Patrick says absently as he tinkers with the numbers on the computer screen.

“Should I?” David asks and only then does Patrick realize what he’s said. Patrick gives him a sidelong look over his shoulder and decides on a shrug. As good an answer as any. 

“Come take a look at this.”

David leans in close, enough for Patrick to feel the heat of him, enough for Patrick to feel a little ridiculous that he hasn’t been able to make any kind of move yet. It’s been over a month. He’s made countless plans, none of which he’s followed through on and hiked pretty near every trail in Schitt’s Creek and all the Elms to rework those plans and frankly, he’d like to be doing something other than hiking to expend energy. 

“What am I looking at?” 

But, this he could do for now. 

Patrick proceeds to show him a way to track individual merchandise profitability, choosing three products David has talked up the most. 

“We can track the trends, see if we set the right margins in the contracts, adjust if we need to.” 

“This is—” David trails off, leaning past Patrick to scroll through the page. “I mean, I don’t understand all of it but it’s amazing, Patrick. When did you have the time to set this up?” 

Patrick shrugs and feels himself brush up against David but musters the brain power to answer. 

“I did what I needed to do for the pub last night, so I came straight here this morning and played around with this.” 

“Patrick, we need to get you out more if all you’re doing is working.” 

He’s surprised to feel David’s hands suddenly on his shoulders giving him a squeeze and then he’s gone, crossing the room to the half opened box of handmade sweetgrass baskets. He watches as he picks one up and brings it to his nose. Patrick can just imagine the sweet, vanilla-like scent. 

It takes him a moment to remember what David had just said and sees an opening and finally takes it.

“Well, where would you suggest?” 

David pauses his unpacking to answer.

“I mean the choices are limited, but I'd say take a break from mediocre meals of the cafe and head to the Wobbly Elm for a drink? Then again, I did that for my birthday last year and I refuse to do it again. Especially considering my family decided to completely forget about it today.”

David looks to Patrick. 

“Not that you can’t go. I mean, I don’t have to be there. Personally, I plan on popping a pill, crying a bit and falling asleep early.”

Before Patrick can respond David’s phone chimes. He pulls it out and his face falls further. 

“That is after I let this vendor know I can’t make our meeting because not only did my family forget my birthday they also forgot I needed the car. Fuck.” 

“Well, that’s...” 

That’s a lot to unpack, but Patrick in an astounding change of pace actually says exactly what he wants to. 

“Wait.” 

David looks up, brows knitted. 

“Happy Birthday, David.” 

“Really?” 

“Come on, let’s start there. I’m sorry it momentarily slipped your family minds to mention your birthday this morning.”

David rolls his eyes but seems to be ready to entertain whatever Patrick has to say but does add, “You’re being much too kind to my family.”

Patrick ignores that and presses on as his idea takes shape. 

“And seeing as I just found out, let me say again. Happy Birthday.” 

David huffs but the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Thank you.”

“How old are we— no?” 

Patrick doesn’t manage to completely stifle his laugh but he recovers quickly. 

“Well, you shouldn’t be alone on your birthday and you also shouldn’t cancel this vendor trip. I’ll drive, we’ll make a day of it.”

A complicated swell of emotions crosses David’s face and Patrick almost thinks they’re in for their regular you can't, I can, debate when a soft smile finally settles on David lips. He makes a fuss of pulling at the sleeves of his sweater, tugging at the bottom edge and smoothing it out but ultimately as he lays his hands flat on the table he accepts.

“Alright.” 

Patrick stuffs his hands in his pockets for fear of doing something like a fist pump. 

“Great. This will be fun. What time is the meeting at?”

“Three in Elm Lake.” 

Patrick’s interest catches on the county name and another idea forms. He mentally calculates how long it will take to get there and tucks that information away. 

“Perfect. Let me walk back to my place to get my car. I need, uh, run an errand and then I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“Yup, sure.” 

David goes back to unboxing but Patrick is glad to see his smile remains. 

**xx**

Patrick is practically vibrating in his seat as he backs out of the driveway and pulls onto the dirt road but he keeps his thoughts to himself for the moment.

He watches David, out of the corner of his eye, give Heather Warner a last wave and settles in his seat. His hands rub up and down his thighs with the same energy Patrick feels thrumming through his body. 

When they finally roll over a hill, taking the farm from sight, Patrick can’t contain himself. 

“David.” 

“I know.” 

“David!” 

David unfolds the signed contract and contemplates it as they pull to a four-way stop. Patrick takes David’s distraction as an opportunity to go straight instead of turning left onto the highway. Although the longer David studies the paper, the more Patrick begins to worry that maybe he had overstepped.

He’d brought a secondary version of the contract that he’d tweaked when he’d heard Heather might be a tough get. It had helped the process but maybe David hadn’t appreciated the changes.

Patrick grips the steering wheel, letting out a long breath. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

David’s head shoots up. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry I only brought up the changes to the contract right before we arrived. We were having a nice drive, appreciating Mariah—” 

“Naturally.” 

He loosens his hands and relaxes just a little.

“And I just meant to give you more of a heads up.” 

“Patrick, the contract was perfect. You were perfect. We got an exclusive deal with _all_ her products, thanks to you.” 

“David, I’m pretty sure it was your pitch that sealed the deal. How you stressed being partners, extending her base and brand awareness.”

“So, maybe we’re both amazing?” David offers and Patrick can hear the joy in David’s voice.

“We really were.” 

Patricks brings his eyes back to the road, guiding the car around a curve and giving it a little more speed on the straight away. The excitement of closing the deal returning. 

“Is it unbelievably hot in here?” 

Patrick laughs, realizing that yeah, it is unbearably hot. 

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s get the windows down. My AC only works when it’s in the right mood.”

The country air rushes in with hints of honeysuckle and freshly cut hay, pushing the humidity from the car. Patrick breathes it in while his eyes scan the horizon. The setting sun lights the clouds in the west in fiery oranges and yellows and paints pastels on the clouds in the east. He commits the beauty to memory, hoping the next time he sees such a sky, he'll think of David and what they’ve accomplished. He almost tells him this but David’s soft voice rises over the wind and the road.

“Is this a different route home?” 

“Yeah, it’s a more scenic drive. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Patrick peeks sidelong at David and catches an almost imperceptible head shake but still, he eases a bit on the gas.

“I’ve never been along here,” David observes. 

They pass fields that stretch to small homes and farms, hills that crest into larger rocky mounts dotted with pine and maple trees.

“It’s beautiful,” David adds and then continues, suddenly restless, “You know, I’ve spent so much time cultivating this anger, this resentment at everything that’s happened to my family, at being stuck in this town that I haven’t allowed room for much else.”

“I don’t know. I think someone who only concentrates on the worst couldn’t create what you’re building with Rose Apothecary. There’s a lot of love and care and grace, David. That’s all you, that’s your heart and mind.”

David covers his mouth and looks out his window. 

“But maybe if I had just taken the time, earlier. I dunno, it’s stupid.”

David tries to wave his emotions away but Patrick can hear it and see it and his heart at once fills and breaks for the man beside him. He feels a lump forming in his own throat. Without thinking, he reaches across the console and wraps his hand around David’s. 

He keeps his eyes on the road, not ready to see the expression, whatever it is, on David’s face. Instead he concentrates on the warm press of metal from David’s silver rings, and on what he wants to say next.

“It’s not stupid. Look at me, I’ve spent so much time, years, with my eyes firmly closed against my life. If anyone’s—” 

“Don’t say it,” David interrupts, hand turning over, squeezing Patrick’s in return.

Patrick clicks his mouth shut, heart pounding.

“Maybe we are both opening our eyes at the right time,” David says quietly. 

“I think you might be right.”

He doesn’t take his hand back for a long time.

**xx**

They fall into a comfortable silence after their roundabout confessions, that is until Patrick abruptly pulls off in front of an old farmhouse. A weathered red barn, its roof drooping at the center sits at the end of the driveway with an even more weathered sign leaning up against it indicating “ _Tartes Maison_ ”. 

“What are we—” David’s words trail off and Patrick finally turns to David when he puts the car in park. David’s hands fidget in his lap and all Patrick wants to do is hold them, calm them and bring them to his lips. A kiss to each fingertip with whispered promises that it’s going to be alright. Patrick lets his smile widen, the feelings are a revelation. He can see himself doing it, he can feel it.

“Well, it’s someone’s birthday.” 

“Oh Patrick. You don’t—” 

Patrick doesn’t let him get the rest of the words out, opening his door instead and fishing his backpack from the trunk. He comes around to David’s side and leans his arms on the open window.

“Is this someone’s private property?” David asks, slowly unbuckling. Progress. Patrick looks back at the house. 

“Well, sort of but I know Ginette a little by now.” 

“Patrick!” 

He has to laugh at David’s burst. He has to enjoy it and he has to let the warmth rise to his own cheeks, owning it, enjoying it, letting David see it. 

He enjoys it even more when David finally calms and asks him “What?” looking to be in on the secret too. 

Patrick winks and even though he knows he doesn’t do it well, it has the desired effect. David seems to soften, the worry slips away. Patrick steps back so David can open the door and join him.

“Come on.” 

He knocks David’s shoulder as he walks by, turning to walk backwards to make sure David is following. 

God, he’s having fun. “Come on, David, you don’t want to miss this.”

David reads the sign again _Tartes Maison_. 

“Wait. Are we having pie?! That isn’t some ancient forgotten sign?”

“Lets go, David. I might even let you choose the flavour.”

David looks affronted and Patrick laughs. 

“Well, it is my birthday, it would be only fair.”

**xx**

Patrick brings them around the side of the farmhouse which reveals a newer, smaller extension. He opens the screen door for David and ushers him in. The space is small and cramped, with shelves and racks on every wall, loaves, buns and bagels crammed where they can fit. It barely looks like it would be a store front at all but there is an old cash register, and a handwritten price list taped to the wall beside it. 

Patrick watches David take it all in, besides the baked goods, where there is free space antiques and old photographs decorate the walls. But the smell is so divine, the fresh warm bread, sugar and fruit and yeast, that David’s eyes don’t stay on the photos long, instead returning to all the food. 

Patrick feels confident this surprise is a good one.

“Mon beau Patrick! Comment allez-vous? Vous m’apportez votre partenaire?” 

The owner is older, with graying hair pinned up in a twist, her smile exuberant and clearly just waiting to tease Patrick. 

Patrick’s eyes widen, being aware David must know enough French to understand what’s being said. Patrick knows he needs to head this off.

“Ginette, this is-” 

“David!” the woman exclaims and winks at Patrick, who might want to crawl under the house. David must think it’s totally normal for Patrick to have been talking to this French Canadian stranger all about David. Right?

“Oui, enchanté de vous rencontrer,” David greets her in perfect French. 

So that’s a yes on understanding French.

The woman beams, sending Patrick another wink his way but kindly switches over to a heavily accented english.

“I tell Patrick for weeks now to bring you here and now finally you come! What took so long?” 

David turns to Patrick with an arched eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, Ginette. Let’s ask Patrick.” 

Patrick feels the color rise to his cheeks and remembers something David said about not enjoying an unbalanced social dynamic. Patrick is beginning to understand.

“I think what matters is that we are here now, it’s your birthday, so pick any pie you want.”

Thankfully, all Ginette does after that is grin at the two of them and ring up the bill on the raspberry pie. And apple. Oh and a peach cobbler. When David looks a little sheepish Patrick shakes his head and pushes him out the door, promising he’ll be back in before they leave.

She smiles and sends them off. 

Patrick leads them around the side to where there are a few picnic tables, that overlook rows upon rows of apple trees and the fading light of the day. Patrick sets their purchases down before opening his pack, pulling out wine, plastic cups and forks. 

David is speechless until his eyes stray to the wine. 

“This is a _very_ nice cabernet.” 

“I’m learning.” 

After that, Patrick urges him to sit and sets everything up, straddling the bench and facing David when it’s all ready.

They open the raspberry, saving the other two pies for home and Patrick has to look away when David lets out a groan at the flavor, the flush on his skin isn’t going away any time soon at this rate, so he busies himself with opening the wine. 

He waits for David to pick up his and touches their cups together.

“Happy Birthday, David.” 

“Thank you, Patrick. This is… perfect.” 

It’s another few bites in silence until David asks what Patrick knew was inevitably coming.

“How did you find this place?” 

“I actually came across it when I was driving to Schitt’s Creek for the first time. It popped up on my GPS and I wasn’t ready to—” 

Patrick hesitates thinking of that day.

“I guess I wasn’t ready to start my new life in Schitt’s Creek yet. I had just sort of blown up my life back home, as you know and reaching Schitt’s Creek really felt like closing one door and opening another so I stopped for pie.”

David smiles around another forkful. His tongue darting out to catch a bit of berry on his top lip. Patrick watches it all, his throat suddenly dry. He takes a careful sip of wine. 

“Ginette, her daughter and her daughter’s wife all came out and sat with me. It was nice. It calmed me down and allowed me to get back on the road. I’ve been back a few times since.”

“And you’re only bringing me now? You shouldn’t be eating all that pie alone, Patrick,” David teases. 

“I’ve been going on a lot of hikes. Helps with the pie,” Patrick mumbles, smiling into his lap, knowing now is the time to reveal one last birthday gift and the real reason he hadn’t brought David here yet.

“Okay so, I don’t know if it’s exactly what you were looking for but when you started talking about Heather’s farm, and getting a few other perishables, I **—** ”

David grips his wrist. 

“Would she be interested?” David asks suddenly. Patrick looks up. David’s eyes are wide, excited.

“She would.” 

“Patrick!” 

“You don’t mind? I didn’t mean for this to be a secret but I thought it could be a good fit and a nice surprise and her daughter only got back to me about it yesterday. We’ll need to talk to them a little more about the contract but they’re ready to start with us right away.”

David smiles and drops his gaze to where his fingers are gripping Patrick’s wrist and looks back up at Patrick, eyes soft and Patrick thinks, _knowing._

It leads Patrick to want to blurt out everything he’s feeling, everything he’s been wanting to say, explain why he’s been so nervous but he finds the words stuck when David’s index finger traces the veins against the soft skin of Patrick’s wrist. His touch tentative but his eyes, curious, like he’s putting the pieces together without Patrick needing to explain it at all.

“This is the best birthday I can remember,” David declares when he finally speaks instead of answering Patrick’s question. 

“It’s nothing.”

David’s fingers trail down to Patrick’s open palm and grip his fingers. 

“This is not nothing.” 

Patrick squeezes back.


	4. Two Balls One Cup Lager

They had finished their pie and wrapped up the rest. The wine was corked so they could finish it when they got back and Patrick is retrieving it all from the trunk when Matt’s voice breaks the silence. 

“David! Patrick! Just in time!” 

Patrick slams the trunk shut and feels David slide up against him. He hadn’t had much more wine than Patrick but maybe just enough to lower some inhibitions. Fingers dance across his shoulder and Patrick ignores his cousin in favour of smiling over at David. 

“Just in time for what?” David whispers loud enough for Matt to hear but leans in more to Patrick. 

“To defend your title against Patrick!” Matt declares, approaching with multiple boxes of pizza.

David’s fingers stop and he arches an eyebrow. Patrick’s eyes cut to Matt, who’s grinning madly, another person out to get Patrick today and who isn’t quite following the plan, and yet, Patrick can’t help but take the bait.

“Would we really call that a title? That doesn’t seem fair?” Patrick, ever the competitive player gripes. “I thought we said it didn’t count.” 

“It’s on the board.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and David gains interest. 

“What kind of board. Am I on it? And more importantly do I get pizza?” David asks.

Matt all but shoves the pizza at Patrick and wraps his arm around David's shoulder and leads him towards the brewery.

“Yes on both accounts,” Matt says. “You see that day when you first came in, you sunk Patrick’s last cup and ended his winning streak.” 

David preens. 

“Hey!” Patrick complains, following along behind. “Just like that, eh?” 

“Pizza, Patrick,” David justifies but turns and waits for Patrick. 

Patrick gives him a knowing look but they fall into step, making their way to the front door, which Matt is holding open. 

David goes in first. 

No one yells _surprise_ but David is still brought up short when he spots Stevie, Twyla, Alexis and Ted all standing around a beer pong table, chatting with Sam. 

“Happy Birthday, David!” Alexis exclaims, grabbing a small vase of wildflowers from one of the nearby tables and holding it out to David.

“Thank you, Alexis.” 

He takes the flowers, giving them a small sniff before turning his questioning eyes on Patrick. 

Patrick shrugs, depositing the pizza at the bar and joining the group.

“I thought I said no beer pong,” Patrick says as Sam fills up beer cups on the side. 

David steps up beside him, eyeing the group and the set up.

“I mean usually it’s an even six for ultimate gameplay but I suppose if we set it up as a small tournament, eight works well.” 

It’s Patrick’s turn to be a little speechless.

“And what if we played on the same team? Then we could defend a new title together?” The question sounds like a tease coming from David’s lips.

“I guess that can be arranged,” Patrick says, eyes on those lips before grabbing two ping pong balls. 

“It’s so cute you think you can win, David,” Alexis taunts, shaking her wrists out.

“I’m a natural, Alexis. My name’s already on the board and I’ve only played once here and that time with Justin Beiber and mom.” 

“Yeah but Barak pretty much won the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize because of a beer pong game we won in Cairo. So I’m just saying, you’re up against a lot.” 

“Well, Patrick’s amazing, so— I wouldn’t be so sure.” 

Patrick’s watches the weirdest exchange he’s ever seen with barely concealed amusement and hands David his ball. 

“You go first, you got this,” Patrick whispers and steps back to give David some room. 

David takes a moment to stare down his sister and then lets the first ball fly with just the flick of his wrist. It sails in a perfect arc and lands with a splash in the front cup.

“Take that, you little B.” 

David turns to Patrick with a wide smile, and though the pressure is on now, Patrick thinks he’s up to the challenge.

**xx**

Twyla proved to be their biggest test, sinking four of their six cups before either David or Patrick could come up with a game plan. She’d somehow managed to distract them enough to bounce the ball in on both her turns, accounting for double the cups, putting them down two to three.

“She can’t do that,” David argues, while Stevie cackles opposite him.

“But she did,” Stevie counters, head leaning on Twyla’s shoulder, eyes blinking in innocence although looking anything but. 

“Enough of you. I don’t think you’ve sunk a ball tonight. She can’t do that, can she, Patrick?” 

Patrick holds his laugh as he fishes the balls from the two cups and moves them aside. He places David’s ball in his hand and covers it, stepping in close. 

“She can. Unfortunately it’s in the rules.” 

David pouts. 

“Stupid rules.” 

Now Patrick does laugh and lets his fingers scratch over David’s wrist, unsure if it's the little bit of alcohol coursing through his veins making him bold or just the culmination of a pretty sublime day. Whatever it is, he isn’t going to overthink it anymore. He feels good, there’s people here who might be quickly becoming his friends, there’s family who are currently giving him an obnoxious thumbs up sign from across the room and then there’s the beautiful boy. 

He leans in, his lips close to David’s ear. 

“We’re going to throw at the same time. Aim for the front cup, okay?” 

He feels David’s chest rise and fall. 

“It’s not going to work.” 

“Have some faith, on three. One, two, three!” 

They turn and their shots arc across the table one after the other, neatly falling into the same cup. 

“Back on top, baby!” Patrick whoops, hand immediately up for a high five. David meets him halfway, and then looks down the table. 

“Wait. What did we just do?” 

Patrick points to Stevie and Twyla, who move their remaining three cups aside and down their beer. 

“We got two in one, it clears three.” 

“I like this game,” David decides, following Patrick over to the chalkboard where they’re keeping score. He picks up his glass of wine on the way, having decided early on he wasn’t chugging beer all night. 

Patrick moves their names to the winners column.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I don’t want this day to be over. Thank you, Patrick.” 

“It’s a nice night for a campfire. We could keep it going at Patrick's,” Matt pipes up. 

Patrick oscillates between wanting to strangle or hug his cousin, it really could go either way. It _is_ a nice night and he doesn’t want it to end but they could just stay here and talk, he doesn’t want to force anything. 

And then David speaks up. 

“I mean, I shouldn’t get smoke in this knit but—” 

“You can borrow one of my sweaters.” Patrick almost trips over his words, he says them so quickly.

So, we’re going with no chill.

“Perfect, it’s decided,” Matt says, clapping them both on the back. “EVERYONE, WE’RE GOING TO PATRICK’S!”

Everyone pauses at the sudden announcement and then as if it were choreographed, a chorus of “TO PATRICK’S!” rings out. 

Patrick watches everyone gather their things with a little bit of disbelief. What even is his life anymore? But David is patiently waiting for him by the door and so what else can he do but follow him out into the night.

**xx**

No one drives, not with the drinks that have been flowing, instead they meander down the middle of the street, bursts of laughter breaking up the stillness of the night. 

David and Patrick hang back, moving forward at their own pace, watching the antics of the group in front of them, lost in their own thoughts. Patrick thinks of the uncertainty that hung over him like a dark cloud when he left his parents’ driveway and drove away from all he knew. He’s sort of astonished that it might be this easy to begin again. These people, his family and his halfway to friends, friends. He feels like it fits, like it’s more than temporary.

He feels David’s shoulder brush his, and in another few steps he feels his hand, a fleeting touch, the essence of innocent flirtation. 

Patrick looks over and David isn’t looking at him but he can tell he knows he’s being watched and likes it. Patrick can tell by the lopsided smile, by the color staining his cheeks and by the way David's tongue darts out to dampen his lips. 

And suddenly Patrick can’t wait anymore. It can’t be another failed plan he puts off for another day. If he has to wonder and cast glances and think about the what ifs for one minute, he might go crazy. He needs to kiss this man. He needs to know what kissing David will feel like and then once he knows, he needs to kiss him again to make sure it isn’t a dream.

“David?” the name slips past his lips before he forms a solid plan. 

David must see something when he looks because his steps slow until they completely stop.

“Patrick?” 

Patrick looks at his lips. 

“Yup,” Patrick whispers, stepping closer. “I um...”

But Patrick still hesitates.

What does he do? Does he ask him? Does he just go for it? He looks up just as David does and then they are both moving in, David taking the lead, his warm hand on Patrick’s neck guiding him in close. 

The kiss is chaste and gentle, almost a suggestion of a kiss and yet it completely knocks him flat. He sighs and he feels more than hears David’s answering smile. He feels it over every inch of his body. He can feel it settle in his bones and it quiets any voice of doubt in his brain. Instead there’s a low hum that echoes; this, this, this. 

This is what he’s been searching for. 

As Patrick pulls back, he pulls in David's warm breath. He keeps them close, opening his eyes slowly, finding David curious, bashful, and wanting but David starts to drops his hand from Patrick’s neck. 

_No._

“No.”

David waits calmly for more.

“No, wait. Come back,” Patrick whispers even though David really hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s just checking in, he must feel the shake in Patrick’s bones, that feeling bouncing around inside. But through all that, David’s mouth quirks up to the side and he comes easily when it’s Patrick’s turn to slide his fingers into David’s hair, to pull him close and capture those lips again, taste that smile and red wine. He could get drunk on it. 

They light up suddenly in the headlights of an oncoming car but instead pulling back and taking a moment, Patrick walks them back, still chasing David’s mouth, his own quirking up with the high, happy laugh David lets out.

“Just a little more,” Patrick insists, loving the full press of David against him. David complies, nipping at his bottom lip but they are both too happy, smiling too hard to really make it work. When they finally take a breath, David is running a soothing line up and down Patrick’s arms, until Patrick can look up and face him. 

“Thank you,” Patrick finally says, the words infused with relief, happiness.

“For what?” 

“I’ve never done that before, with a man, and I didn’t know how to make it happen for us, no matter how many nights I spent thinking about it.” 

David’s eyebrow raises at his last line and Patrick can feel his flush rise but he has to laugh at himself and man, does it feel good. 

“I know,” Patrick mumbles, a little self-deprecatingly and finally looks around for the first time. They’re completely alone. “They left us,” he states the obvious. 

“What, did you expect them to stay and watch, maybe cheer us on?”

Patrick rolls his eyes.

“Okay. Come on, let’s get to the trailer.”

He slips his fingers between David’s, like he’s been wanting to but David holds them back when he tries to move.

“Like an RV?” David asks, weary. Patrick brings David’s palm to his lips and presses a kiss there. It’s a revelation that he can now just kiss David, after all the aching thoughts he’s been having over the last few weeks. Getting David to his current living accommodations is a breeze compared to everything else. 

“You’ll see, it’s not so bad. I promise.”

Patrick gives him a little tug and they finally start walking again.

“I thought you were renting a place from Ray?”

“I am. Ray thought he was going to set up a campground in Schitt’s Creek but only got as far as this one trailer before the call to start his own closet organization business was too strong. Don’t give me that look, it’s actually really nice. Even has running water.”

“Mmm, running water. You set a pretty high bar there.” 

Patrick laughs.

“Come on, I'll roast you a marshmallow.”

**xx**

The inside of the trailer carries the warm glow from the campfire outside. The light stretches shadows on the walls and Patrick watches them dance in a wayward pattern. He listens to the snaps and pops of the fire, and the soft hum of conversation. He relaxes into the familiar sounds, eyes closing, mind a little fuzzy from wine and relief, and drops his head back against the front door.

They had arrived to find Ted and Sam busy building the fire while Matt set up the chairs. Whatever else Patrick was expecting never came. No friendly teasing or curious glances, just a nose boop from Alexis and that was it. They’d settled around the fire, sang one raucous version of Happy Birthday to David— who’s scowl barely concealed a smile— and then traded stories and marshmallow sticks for the next few hours. 

And if David tangled his fingers with his between their chairs well, what of it? Patrick had sighed, feeling a happy exhaustion in his bones. 

He hears the bathroom door open, the light switch off and a moment later, the warmth of David in front of him. He opens his eyes and appreciates the patience he sees there. There’s no pressure being near him, just a thrum of anticipation and understanding. Patrick revels in it but soon it isn’t enough. He grips the front of David’s borrowed sweater and tugs him closer. 

“Okay, it’s not _completely_ awful in here. It looks like something you would see on the cover of Tiny Homes Monthly or on a TLC renovation show,” David says but he isn’t looking around the trailer, or its modern makeover. He’s slipping a leg between Patrick’s, sliding a hand behind his neck and leaning in close. 

“I’m so glad you approve,” Patrick whispers, neck arching closer, just enough to feel David’s warm breath but then David is moving, lips hovering near his ear. 

“Is this where you spent all your nights thinking about what you wanted to do to me?” 

Patrick huffs out a strained laugh, unwilling to answer that, although his brain immediately goes to all those thoughts and fantasies. His hips arch, and David’s answering groan goes straight to his dick. 

This time when David’s mouth finds his, it’s not soft or gentle. He encourages Patrick to open up, slipping his tongue inside and taking. 

It’s never felt like this, wild and a little reckless. Like he can’t get enough and just wants to push for more. Patrick’s fingers tighten in the sweater he’s holding, David’s body follows. He traps him against the door and Patrick comes alive at the feeling, his own answering groan rumbling in his chest.

It’s a lot, maybe too much all at once but it’s so good.

David leaves his mouth and drops his lips to his jaw, nosing down the column of his neck before finding his pulse point and sucking hard, definitely leaving a mark. 

“It’s never...” Patrick starts and stops, eyes screwed shut. “It’s never been like this,” he finally gets out and it slows David, who soothes the mark he’s left with his tongue before bringing them eye level again. 

“But it’s good? You’re good?” he asks softly.

“So good,” Patrick answers.

David, thumbs at his lip, once, twice before kissing him again, lighter this time, shorter. He pulls back. 

“Will you stay past summer?” he asks and it’s a question that holds so much more than those simple words.

Patrick’s heart races.

“I, I don’t know but,” he starts but pauses. 

“Mmm,” is David’s only response. He feels him pulling away and Patrick holds on. 

He wants to say he’ll stay forever, but even he knows that’s a little dramatic for a first date, encounter, hook up, or whatever the kids are calling it these days. But he also doesn’t want to lie to David like he did that first day so he tries to find the answer that is the closest to the truth.

“I want to,” Patrick finally whispers and loosens his hold on the sweater, finding David’s free hand.

An abrupt knocking on the trailer door halts any more future talk. 

“David, you need to walk me home!” Stevie calls out. 

David huffs but Patrick smiles and kisses the frown on his face. 

“Probably a good idea,” he whispers in the dark. 

“Mmm.”

“Can we talk tomorrow?” Patrick asks and David expressions softens. 

“We can talk any time you like.” 

David leans in for another gentle press of lips and on a sigh steps back. 

“Let me know if you come up with any more plans, I’d love to hear them,” David teases just as Patrick reaches for the door. 

Patrick thinks of his plans, he thinks of a lot of things, thinks they have plenty of time.

“We’ll see. Good night, David.”

“Good night, Patrick.

**xx**

Despite sitting around the fire for another hour with Sam and Matt the night before, Patrick still makes it into the store hours before David. He’d had too much nervous energy moving through him to sit and stare at the door David had had him pressed against hours earlier. So he occupies his mind with product delivery spreadsheets, follow up emails and begins labeling the latest batch of face creams.

David eventually enters in a whirlwood of chimes and a knowing smile. Yet, beyond a light press of lips to Patrick’s cheek, they circle around each other for the better part of the morning. 

It’s a different kind of nervous energy and wanting, one that Patrick decides to embrace. He lets himself be caught, time and again, until David eventually throws his hands up in exasperation after one long look too many.

“Honestly!” he exclaims, hands dropping to his hips. 

Patrick pushes the cream he was labeling away and rests his chin in his hand. 

“What?” he asks, eyes blinking slowly, lips being dampened by his tongue. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

Patrick shrugs, and again trails his eyes down David and back up, his intention clear. He’d stop but he doesn’t want to. Not now that he can, not when it feels so freeing to be able to do so and he knows David is pleased no matter the exaggerated reaction. 

“I’m trying to be professional and give you space and you’re just thinking about last night,” David says trying to take the highroad and while he’s not totally wrong, he’s not completely right either. 

Patrick stands and meets David halfway.

“I was just thinking about how grateful I am that I get to spend the day with you.” 

David shakes his head and looks away but Patrick continues, “And that I get to be a small part of your brilliance here, and sure that I get to do this…” With more confidence than he actually feels, Patrick cups David’s head, guiding him where he wants and presses his lips to his. When he pulls back, just inches away to catch his breath, David whispers against his lips. 

“See, just thinking about last night.” 

Patrick slides his hand around, thumb brushing David’s cheek, down to his bottom lip, feeling the dampness, his warm breath.

“Can you blame me, David? It’s never felt like that before for me.” 

“Patrick, you can’t.” 

“I can, and I am telling you, because I finally can.” 

He runs his thumb over that lip again but before he can close the distance David whispers. 

“For me too.” 

Patrick surges forward, pressing David into the counter and taking. They don’t even hear the bells chime. 

“Well isn’t this just so cute? But maybe not so good for business,” Alexis states plainly, walking past them. 

“We’re closed so if you could please fuck off,” David says, grip still tight on Patrick, not letting him go anywhere.

“Excuse you David. I’m here for our business meeting. The openings are very soon and if we want to get enough publicity, we need to get started right away.” 

David loosens his grip enough for Patrick to turn around but moves his hands to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry Alexis, what exactly were we supposed to talk about?” Patrick asks, trying to sound like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest. 

“The double opening? Creekside and Rose Apothecary together? The beer pong tournament? But now I’m thinking,” Alexis puts her palm in the air, punctuating each word. “Schitt’s. Creek. Street. Fest. Isn’t that so cute you could just die?” 

“I don’t remember this conversation,” David says, looking at Patrick for confirmation. He looks just as clueless. 

“Yeah you were too busy with your button.”

Patrick flushes and David’s fingers tighten on his shoulders but Alexis ignores their discomfort, and pulls out a notepad from her bag.

“We’ll make it a weekend event. Rose Apothecary will open on Saturday the 8th and Creekside will open that evening with a beer pong tournament. We’ll invite local businesses to provide the door prizes and we’ll pick a local cause to donate the entrance fees to. Ronnie gave me a few ideas already.”

Alexis is scribbling something in her notepad while David and Patrick just look at each other. 

“I mean, I know the brewery isn’t quite on brand for you but—” Patrick trails off, his mind already thinking of the reach this could have.

“It’s not a terrible idea, even though I was thinking of more of a soft launch. Test the market first,” David hedges. 

“Oh boring, David! Stop trying to be like Gwenyth, be better David.”

Patrick sensing the situation could devolve quickly tries to step in. 

“I can talk to Sam and Matt.” 

But Alexis interrupts. 

“Oh don’t worry Patrick, I already did. They’re in. I said I would talk to you guys about the Apothecary because I knew you two would be a little pickier.”

Patrick can tell even though Alexis is right, David resents the implication but all Patrick can concentrate on is the fact it’s assumed he’s included in the Rose Apothecary decisions. He feels _a lot_ about it.

David’s hands suddenly rub a soothing pattern on his shoulders.

“You think it could be good?” David asks quietly. 

“It could get our name out to all the Elms. People might even stay for the weekend. I think it could be great.” 

David sighs but when Patrick looks over his shoulder, he doesn’t look all that put out. 

“Okay Alexis, but I want you to keep us updated on everything.” 

“Of course I will, you silly goose. Now come here,” Alexis says, her nails clicking on the countertop next to her notepad. “I want to show you where we should do the tournament and how you can showcase your brand at both establishments.”

He feels David take a deep breath and then his hands are gone. Patrick watches him walk over to Alexis with just a little resignation in his step. 

“Come on, Patrick. We don’t have all day.”

There she goes , including him again. 

His eyes meet David’s and then the hand he’s holding out. 

Looks like they have a launch and tournament to plan. 


	5. Staying Stout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TINN for a line that got me unstuck, your words are magic!

The firm date for the opening speeds up time. Suddenly there isn’t enough of it. They rush to finish stocking the shelves with the product they have. There are contracts to finalize, calls to make to assure the product they’ve ordered arrives on time, and of course the final finishes to the space. 

“Did you call the electrician, David?”

“I’m under a lot of stress, Patrick.”

That was a no.

Patrick had given David a pointed look, having already reminded him three times and that exchange had led to their first tense afternoon. But when David arrived the next morning to find Patrick finishing up the install on the lights, it had also led to David thoroughly showing Patrick his thanks against the back wall of the storage room. Patrick often touches the bruise on his collarbone just to remember that full body shudder.

Not wanting to disappoint anyone, Patrick also continues splitting his time between Creekside and the Apothecary, despite Sam and Matt’s gentle protests that he needn’t. Patrick’s stubborn streak about seeing things through keeps him working the long hours, even if he is beginning to feel stretched a little thin.

And so with time elapsing expeditiously, and despite the intensity of that first day together, there’s a contrast in the pace they take in their relationship.

David is careful with Patrick, he doesn’t press despite how ready Patrick feels. Each shuddered breath Patrick takes in the crook of David’s neck as David insists they take their time is a lesson in patience. Each whispered word of praise and hard press of thigh between his legs ratchets Patrick’s need further and tests his resolve. When he’s not cursing it, he’s impressed with David’s control but then again he also senses they only fool around at the Apothecary because it sets limits to what they can do.

And that is all true until they unpack and move enough boxes to unearth the small couch in the storage room, then it gets a lot harder. 

“We should, ah,” David tries to speak but Patrick catches his bitten off moan in his mouth as he tweaks his nipple, loving the reaction, loving the feeling it gives him. He moves to David’s neck, careful not to leave any marks this close to launch but still, tasting and teasing. He takes his earlobe and gives it a nip. 

“Tell me David, what should we do?” Patrick asks, his hips starting a slow thrust. 

“Fuck. That’s so good,” David says, momentarily distracted. 

God, Patrick wants more time. More time and more space and less clothes. 

“Come on, tell me David, what should we do.” 

David groans but then his hands are on his hips, slowing him down, urging him to the side, tucked in between David and the couch. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Patrick asks, chest heaving, fingers resting over David’s frantic heart.

“I think we should, that is, I think you should have me over to your place tomorrow.” 

Patrick feels a thrill of nerves run down his spine but in the best possible way. 

“You could come over tonight. Now? I don’t think we are going to do much else today.”

David leans over and kisses him gently, slowly. A kiss that says _wait, soon_. 

“I promised Stevie I would see her tonight, and I have that call _so_ early tomorrow with Ginette’s daughter.” 

Patrick drops his head to David's chest with a groan. 

“The call’s at nine, David. It’s not that early.” 

“Patrick, you know how I like to take my time in the morning.” 

“Fine. I’ll just go take care of myself then.” 

Patrick attempts to extricate himself from the couch but David catches him around the waist and with a strength that lights Patrick on fire, hauls him down. Patrick just manages to catch himself on either side of David. 

“Tomorrow, promise,” David says, serious and Patrick has to soften. 

“Okay, tomorrow.” 

**xx**

Patrick tries to think of a worse scenario at the moment and can’t come up with one.

What he _should_ be doing is trying to fix the situation, but as the fermenting beer pours over him and onto the floor it really seems easier to be pissed off. All he can think of is, fuck, fuck—

“FUCK!” 

Now that that’s out in the open, he shakes his head and looks frantically around the room. He sighs in relief when he spots the tool he needs. Wrench in hand, he tries to tighten the busted valve and for a split second he doesn’t think it’s going to work but after a fourth attempt, it starts moving. It takes multiple turns but eventually the flow of beer dwindles and at last stops. 

Patrick drops his head to the cool metal of the fermentation tank and groans. 

He’d _told_ Matt this tank was too old, that they shouldn’t have even tried with it. Well, at least he can say, _I told you so_. Not that it’s much consolation to him right now or the lost batch of beer that was currently filtering down into the large floor drain.

Of all the days this had to happen, why today? 

He should have already been at the Apothecary and he’d wanted to get a few things for tonight.

Tonight with David. 

David. He needs to tell David why he’s late but his phone is in the main room and he can’t go out there covered in beer. He also can’t let all this stagnant beer sit here, days away from the launch. He needs to clean, he needs to call Matt and Sam and let them know what happened. 

“UGH!” 

He should be with David. If he has to deal with disasters, he wants to do it with David. But, that doesn’t really help him now.

_Think, think, think._

Eventually Patrick does come up with a plan, although not before knocking his head once more against the tank and got to work. 

**xx**

All Patrick wants to do at this point is kiss David, take a shower and make a cup of tea, though not necessarily in that order. And definitely change his clothes, Patrick tacks on as he attempts to hose himself off outside the brewery. 

“I don’t know where he is Stevie— of course I called his phone! He didn’t answer.”

David’s high panicked voice filters out the back door of the Apothecary. Patrick turns off the hose so he can call out to David but his next words pull him up short. 

“Oh, I don’t know! Probably somewhere full of regrets. I think I pushed too hard yesterday and I forgot to call the electrician last week.”

Patrick frowns. He’s sorry that he hadn’t been able to warn David he’d be late but he’s also frustrated that David has so little faith in him but when he takes a calming breath he thinks— maybe he hasn’t given him much reason. 

“David! I’m right here,” Patrick calls out. 

“Shit.” 

He shakes his head at the expletive and how David goes silent. 

“Stevie, I have to call you back.” 

Patrick waits and slowly sees David peek his head out the back door. 

“Oh my god, what happened to you? You’re—” David asks, taking a step outside. 

“Covered in beer? Dealing with a disaster? Not doing what I wanted to be doing at this very moment or all afternoon for that matter?” Patrick grumbles and looks down at his soaked and stained clothes. “One the tanks sprang a major leak. I had to deal with that, then myself before I could come see you,” he explains and then looks at David pointedly, “ _Not_ regretting anything or any plans I hope we still have.” 

David looks a little sheepish and meets him in the yard, although he stays a careful distance away. Patrick doesn’t blame him, he’s disgusting and David is beautiful and wearing what looks to be the softest gray sweater and Patrick just wants to curl up against him. 

“And what would you have preferred to be doing?” David asks. 

“What?” Patrick asks, slightly exasperated but can’t help the fondness that fills his heart at David’s half smile. 

“Well you just said you weren’t doing what you wanted to be doing, so what did you want to be doing? Maybe I can help.” 

“I wanted to kiss you, take a shower and make a cup of tea, but to be honest I’m still not sure what order I want those in. And anyway I’m disgusting so I know the kiss is off the table. Ugh, and I need to wait for Matt, he’s on his way.” 

David tilts his head in a thoughtful way. 

“Okay, don’t move,” David orders but Patrick still steps back when David comes towards him. 

“What are you—” 

“I said don’t move.” 

Patrick stops and stays still. David stops just in front of him and puts a protective hand against his chest. Patrick gives him credit for only turning his nose up a little at the smell and feel of him. 

David leans in, careful not to let any part of him touch Patrick except for the hand on his chest and his lips that settle firmly over his. Patrick sighs into the kiss, finally feeling his body relax. 

“There,” David whispers when he pulls back, and smiles at Patrick’s bewildered expression. “Now I can’t help you with the shower but I can go over to the cafe and get you your tea.” 

“David,” Patrick whispers, he’d wrap his body around David Rose right now if he could. 

David waves him off.

“And then when you’re done here, go home and shower. I’ll meet you at your place after I have supper with my family. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Patrick agrees, but not without a bit of a pout. 

“What?” 

“Could you just, one more?” 

Patrick taps his lips and David rolls his eyes but steps forward. 

“Remember what I said,” David warns and Patrick stays as still as a statue. “The things I do,” David whispers against his lips but gives him a parting kiss that gets him through the long afternoon. 

**xx**

Hours later, finally showered and no longer smelling like stale beer and sweat, Patrick finally feels more like himself. Although, a whole new set of emotions has taken residence in his chest. A restless energy he can’t seem to tame, though he does try.

He makes a sandwich and tries to relax with sports highlights. He brushes his teeth, and tidies up. He adjusts his fan against the heavy air of the trailer and paces the small space. When none of that works, he decides to pour himself a drink, hoping a whisky will calm his nerves.

He can feel it deep in his belly what will happen tonight. What he wants to happen tonight and all the possibilities that keep playing over and over in his head.

Read a book, Patrick. Relax.

So, he takes his book, two glasses and the bottle of whisky outside, the ice clinking in the glasses as he sets them down on the small table. He settles into an old worn rocking chair he’d found being given away. 

( _Thrown away, Patrick_ , Matt had mumbled when he’d helped him bring it back in his truck.)

It had been on the side of the road on his way home from one of his hikes. Patrick had found comfort in tightening screws, sanding the rough patches and getting it back to working order. The chair still clicked on every back swing but he liked it, he timed his breaths to the clicks. 

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

It’s a humid night and the air is still and heavy. He closes his eyes and listens. Crickets, whippoorwills, frogs, and other insects fill the air, though he is safe in his small screened-in porch. He sips his drink and the amber liquid burns a warm trail down his throat.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he remembers a voicemail coming through earlier. He pulls it out to listen. 

And then he listens again, a smile overtaking his face. 

“Well it certainly looks like Patrick and the very bad day has gotten better.” 

Patrick looks over towards the voice, startled, dropping his phone to his lap. His rocking stops, along with his even breaths. 

David stands on the other side of the screened porch, lit only by the mini multicolored lanterns. The colors accentuating his olive skin and dark eyes.

God, he looks good. 

“Do I?”

_Oops._

“Come in,” Patrick urges, ignoring the question and getting up to open the door. 

Once inside the safety of the porch David wastes no time sliding into Patrick’s space, arms sliding over his shoulders, mouth warm and insistent on his. 

“Mmm, someone smells better, and— has gotten started without me?” 

David looks past Patrick noting the two glasses on the table, amber liquid in one, ice cubes already melting in the other.

“Liquid courage?” Patrick tries to joke.

David frowns. Patrick kisses it away.

“I’m kidding. Sort of. It’s just been a day. Would you like a glass?” David nods and Patrick guides him to the rocking chair.

With drinks poured, Patrick pulls a plastic chair close and settles across from David, guiding his feet to his lap. He slowly unwinds David’s laces and carefully pulls off each shoe. David sips and watches quietly. With his feet bare, Patrick rests his palm on David’s ankle, fingers brushing the warm skin. 

“How is it possible that it is hotter now than it was this afternoon?” Patrick asks. 

They look at the trees, still no movement.

“Perhaps it’s the present company,” David offers over the rim of his glass. Patrick rolls his eyes but his pink tipped ears tell he’s pleased. 

David eyes the book on the table.

“Read to me?” he asks. 

Patrick picks up the book and flips through the pages. “Anywhere?” he asks.

“Mmm, anywhere.” David leans his head back and closes his eyes. 

Patrick settles on a page somewhere in the middle and reads in soft tones, glancing up every so often to see David’s lips ticking up when he reads something particularly cutting or funny. He takes a sip from his tumbler and continues. He reads until both their drinks are empty and his voice feels a little hoarse. He drops the book on the table and waits for David to slowly blink his eyes open. 

When he finally does, he stands. Patrick widens his legs, making room for him. 

He likes looking up at him, he likes the hungry feeling it leaves in his belly. 

David rests his hands on his shoulders, his fingers on one hand slip through the sweat damp hair at the back of his neck, scratching and soothing.

“Do you want to go in? We can get more ice for our drinks,” Patrick asks, knowing he’s not really asking about drinks or ice. 

“Sure.”

David gives him space and follows him inside. The door closes behind them with a decisive click. Soft music is the only sound but for their breathing. Patrick moves quietly in the small space, getting more ice from the fridge, dropping it in their glasses, filling them with just a little more alcohol.

“You know you didn’t give me a tour last time. Is there a bedroom or does a bed come out from the wall or something?” David’s words trail off when Patrick raises his brow. David shrugs. “Just curious.”

Patrick doesn’t believe him and the anticipation grows. He shifts on his feet, his whole body warm and buzzing.

“Bunk beds, I’ll show you,” Patrick says, taking his hand and handing him his glass with the other but David doesn’t move.

“What?!” he exclaims. 

“I’m kidding, David. There’s a queen in the back. You wanna see?” Patrick tries to tug him again but David still doesn’t move. 

“What’s the matter, David?”

David hesitates. 

“I just want you to know there’s no pressure here. To do anything. I’m really just teasing. We can have another drink and just lie down. I just want to be here with you, that’s all.”

“Thank you, David.” Patrick brings their clasped hands to his mouth and kisses David’s knuckles. “But I was rather hoping for at least a little more, _if_ you’re okay with that.” 

David nods and finally lets himself be tugged. 

They step into the small but surprisingly stylish bedroom, Patrick deposits their glasses on the night table and turns to David. 

“I’m sorry it’s so warm in here. The trailer was better than renting a room at Ray’s but doesn’t have much in the way of air conditioning.”

Patrick knows he’s sort of stalling but thankfully, David doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Let’s try this,” David says, his words soothing, his actions getting them moving as his fingers go to the hem of Patrick’s tee shirt. “Up,” he urges and Patrick lifts his arms, allowing for the shirt to be pulled off and tossed on the floor.

“Better?” David asks. 

“A little bit,” Patrick hedges, his own fingers tentative on David’s stark white tee. “May I?” 

David nods and his shirt follows Patrick’s and finally Patrick is chest to chest with all that glorious warm skin. And there’s so much he wants to do but above all he wants to kiss David, and feel David like this and so he does. They kiss in that space, standing, hips grinding in a slow rhythm together until his mouth is swollen, until there's a new red mark on his neck and until their bodies are both a little slick with heat and perspiration. 

Until David finally steps back, his fingers going to the fly of Patrick’s shorts. 

“Can I?” he asks and Patrick doesn’t hesitate. 

“Please.” 

David’s fingers are deft and tease a groan out of Patrick when they trace over his erection. They are sure and steady as they pull his shorts and underwear down and off. And with Patrick finally naked, David’s hands are firm in guiding him up the bed to lie back against the pillows. 

“So, was this part of all your little plans, Patrick?” David teases, stepping back, eyes raking over every inch of him.

Patrick should feel on display, and maybe he does a little but he doesn’t mind. Not with the way David’s eyes darken when he takes himself in hand, stroking up and down.

“Take off your pants, David,” Patrick orders, ignores the barb and enjoys the catch in David’s breath. He watches quietly as David finishes getting undressed in the dim light. “You’re so beautiful, David.” 

Patrick’s words catch in his throat as David crawls over him and finally, _finally_ he feels the full weight of him pressing down. So much skin and dark hair, heat and strength and more emotions than Patrick could have ever planned. Patrick groans at the slide of David’s cock against his, suddenly very worried he isn’t going to last long. His hips arch but David soothes him back down, hand firm and knowing on his thigh. 

“Shh,” David whispers. “We have all night.” 

And then David pauses, reaching past Patrick to the night stand. Patrick is simply enjoying being surrounded by David that he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the ice cube slides over his nipple. 

“Ahh,” he hisses at the contact, eyes flashing up to David’s grinning face. “What are you doing?” he asks, not complaining, especially not when David’s lips follow the ice cube, licking around his right nipple. David’s teeth pinch and he looks up, pinning Patrick in place. 

Patrick cries out when he adds a bit more pleasure. 

“Mmm, I knew you’d be loud.” 

The ice finds his other nipple and he squirms again.

“You said you were hot, I’m cooling you down,” David finally explains, giving the left side the same attention.

Patrick throws his head back into the pillows at the dual sensations. 

“I’m not sure that’s what you’re doing at all,” Patrick finally gets out, hand slipping gently into David’s hair, holding on just a little. David doesn’t seem to mind, humming at the contact. He draws the ice cube down Patrick’s chest, lips following the trail, and then lets it melt completely just below his belly button and just above where Patrick is aching for him. 

David licks up the remnants of the ice cube and whisky, his mouth hovering just above his cock, lips red, wet and debauched. 

“Can I suck you, Patrick?” 

Patrick eyes almost roll back in his head, as it is he has to take a few calming breaths, he scratches his blunt nails against David’s scalp to ground him, to remind him that this is real, to try not to come just at the question.

“I, what about you? I haven’t—”

David dips to kiss his thigh, to leave his mark there. 

“I told you, we have all night. Let me take care of you, okay?” 

Patrick watches him as he moves back to his cock, close, breath warm.

“Okay, okay. Please, David.” 

And then David’s mouth is finally on him, and, and— “Christ, David.” 

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut because watching David swallow him down is too much, seeing his mouth stretch over him and take him all the way is nothing like he dreamt. It’s so much better and he’s going to come so embarrassingly fast. 

David pulls back, tonguing the underside of his cock.

“Patrick, look at me,” he orders and Patrick listens. He listens and watches as David takes him apart with his mouth and his eyes and his hand and when he catches sight of David touching himself at the same time, well, it’s over. 

“David, I’m— I’m going to come.” 

His hands tighten in David’s hair as he sucks him back down and as David watches him, he comes and comes and comes. 

Even while he’s catching his breath, the need to do this for David, to try to make him feel even an ounce of how he’s feeling is overwhelming. It’s all he wants, even as David gives him a last swipe of his tongue and he shudders at the overstimuation. 

“You’re so goddamn sexy, do you even realize?” David mutters against his thigh. “Fuck, I love your thighs.” Patrick feels David’s teeth and he has to sit up, has to see David. “Next time I want to slide between them. Have you squeeze me tight.”

Patrick shivers at the thought. Yes, he wants that.

“Can I, David? Can I try?” he stutters out the words watching David rise to his knees, hand stroking his own cock, groaning at Patrick’s words. 

“I’m too worked up, I want you to but—” David’s words cut off as he groans again, as Patrick scoots forward and licks his hand, getting it wet. “Patrick,” David moans and Patrick reaches out, hand wrapping around his dick, following the rhythm David set. 

“Yeah? Then can you come like this? With my hand on you? Can you come all over me?” 

David nods frantically, dropping his chin to his chest, watching. 

“Please, David,” Patrick begs, hand tightening, stroking him faster. “Please David,” Patrick whispers again, eyes wide, watching David watch him. And David comes on a groan and Patrick’s name whispered on his lips. 

As David comes down, Patrick places kisses on his chest, on his stomach, he nuzzles into the hair there, and breathes in the scent of him and of how good he feels until David’s hands are tilting his head up and lips are there, soft and soothing.

David is about to press him down into the bed when they both remember the mess and Patrick wildly reaches for his tee shirt, cleaning them both up before tossing it away. 

“Come here,” he finally says, and David comes easily, sliding down into the bed beside him.

Their kisses ebb and flow, until someone shifts or touches a particular spot and the heat rises again but they stay like that for a long time, happy and blissed out to finally have this moment.

It’s only when David finally rests his head on Patrick’s chest, fingers tracing designs on Patrick’s stomach does Patrick remember the voicemail. 

How could he forget?

But then he looks down at the dark, messy tuft of hair on his chest and thinks, yeah, this is how. 

He runs his fingers through David’s hair and swears he almost hears the man purr. So he does it over and over again. 

“David?” 

“Mmm?” David mumbles, sounding half asleep. 

“I forgot to tell you something earlier.”

He can immediately feel David freeze and he’s having none of that. 

“No David, look at me. It’s something good.” 

David slowly turns his eyes to look up at Patrick. 

“David, we got the money.”

David’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What?” 

“The grant money. Just before you arrived I remembered I had a voicemail that must have come in during the beer disaster. They called and said Rose Apothecary’s been approved.” 

David rises up to his elbow. 

“And?” And the hopeful note in his voice is what lets Patrick say what’s been on his mind this whole time. 

“And if you want, I can work with you. I can stay. We could build Rose Apothecary together.” 

David gives him a hopelessly soft smile.

“Patrick, we already are.” 

“Yeah? I knew I felt that way but, this is what you want?” 

David kisses him hard. 

“This is what I want. You are what I want.”

And for the first time, Patrick doesn’t go anywhere in the morning, doesn’t need any plans because the one right here in his bed is pretty damn perfect. 

**xx**

“Please tell me you didn’t get us matching shirts? I need to draw the line somewhere, Patrick.”

Patrick turns to see David stopped, face barely concealing the panic he must be feeling. They take in some of the teams already milling around, many in matching shirts with team names in various shades of appropriateness.

Ted walks by quickly but slows down when he spots David and Patrick.

“Hey, guys! I’d stop and chat but Alexis and I are up first. So I guess—” Ted points down proudly to his shirt. “I’ll _Beer_ Right Back when we’re done.” And then he’s off. 

Patrick grins.

“No. No, no, no, NO.” 

“I mean David, there are some great names out there. We could be rim—” 

David slaps a hand over Patrick’s mouth. 

“DO NOT finish that sentence.” 

Patrick’s eyes are dancing but he finally relents with a small nod. David drops his hand slowly, still on the defence for any other incorrect names. When Patrick doesn’t say anything else, he allows his hand to be taken. Patrick slips his fingers between David’s and leads him under the hanging string lights that criss-cross between the two buildings.

Groups are already lining up cups and taunting opponents, while others chat around high tables, lit by Rose Apothecary candles and sampling some the Creekside brews. Music filters through the open doors of the Brewery and Patrick can see Sam and Matt serving beer as fast as they can keep up. 

Patrick glances over at David taking it all in, eyes wide and bright. They should be exhausted, the turn out for the Apothecary opening had been beyond any of their expectations. People had been lined up around the corner before they’d even opened their doors and the rush hadn’t stopped until they’d locked the door behind the last customer. But standing here together, under the lights, seeing their combined efforts payoff, Patrick felt like they were just getting started.

“So, in all honesty about the matching shirts.”

“Oh my god.”

Patrick chuckles but is determined not to let David stop. He tugs him into the Brewery and behind the bar. He nods to Sam and Matt and receives matching winks in return. He hears David’s groan but continues on. He ducks down and pulls out a bag. 

“Patrick,” David warns but Patrick is already pulling out the tee shirt and holding it up for him to see. 

It’s a simple black shirt with just the Rose Apothecary logo printed across the front in white.

David softens just a little. 

“Well that’s not _so_ bad. I guess it’s good for people to know who we are.” 

And then Patrick turns it around. 

TEAM BREWSKI

“Get it?” Patrick knows it’s taking everything in David’s power not to say what’s really on his mind but then he’s shaking his head, and trying to control that smile Patrick loves so much. Patrick grins widely.

“Oh don’t look at me like that and give me the stupid shirt.” David yanks the shirt from Patrick’s grasp and stalks towards the bathroom. Patrick slides his own on and goes to wait for David. 

**xx**

David eyes the two cups across the table from him, rubs the pong ball between his palms before setting up to shoot. The ball finds its target moments later and David turns for their regular high-five. 

Patrick stays close after their hands drop, but looks across at the remaining cup. 

“You know we can’t win it right?” he whispers to David who frowns. “I think it would be in bad taste for the organizers to be eliminating teams from the tournament.”

David’s hands find their familiar place on Patrick’s shoulders, fingers dancing as he thinks. 

“I suppose you’re right and I mean, I sort of feel like we’ve already won.” David knows it’s overly sentimental and corny as soon as the words leave his mouth but he owns them with a fond smile and shrugs.

“I feel the same way.” Patrick tugs him close by the shirt and kisses his smile, smiling right back.

“Enough of that. Throw the damn ball, Brewer so we can get on and I can beat you.” 

Patrick pulls away but keeps a hold of David’s shirt as he stares down Ronnie across the table. He narrows his eyes. 

“Maybe one more win isn’t so bad.” 

And lets his ball fly.


End file.
